FAMILIAR ANECDOTES 



SIR WALTER SCOTT 



BY JAMES HOGG 

THE ETTRICK SHEPHERD. 



WITH A SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF THE SHEPHERD, 
BY S. DEW1TT BLOODGOOD. 



"A man's a man, for a' that. 



NEW- YORK: 

PWBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, 

NO. 82, CLIFF-STREET. 

AND 30LD BY THE PRINCIPAL BOOKSELLERS THROUGHOUT 

THE UNITED STATES. 









Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1834, b> 
Hajiper & Brothers, in the office of the Clerk of the Southern 
District of New- York. 



11. Ludwig, i'rmter, 72, Vesey-st. 






DEDICATED 



THE THIRD DEPARTMENT 

\ 

OP THE 

ALBANY INSTITUTE, 



PREFACE 



The following brief sketch of the life and pro- 
ductions of the Ettrick Shepherd, is the first 
which has yet appeared from the pen of any 
American writer. 

The information is derived from the Shepherd's 
own narratives given at various times to the 
public, and from those periodical publications 
which have occasionally noticed the career of this 
remarkable man. 

A careful examination of all the materials with- 
in reach has been made, for the purpose of 
correction, wherever it became necessary. It 
was deemed advisable to prefix this sketch to the 
Familiar Anecdotes, in order to give both a just 
idea of the author, and of the value of the 
Anecdotes themselves. 

The writer of the Waverley Novels occupies a 
vast space in the literature of his country. Upon 
a field apparently forgotten and unappreciated, he 
raised, like the fairy structure of Abbotsford, 



VI PREFACE. 

though far more lasting, a monument of his ge- 
nius, taste, and industry. 

The Shepherd was his admirer and his friend. 
Still, however, his keen vision appears to have ex- 
tended beyond the atmosphere which the world 
flung around its idol. 

It is believed that the character of Sir Walter 
Scott could not be perfectly appreciated, much 
as it has been studied and described, if something 
of the nature of these Anecdotes were not to 
appear. How they came to be first offered to the 
American public will be seen in the following 
pages. 

The publishers have made a very liberal ar- 
rangement with the Editor, by which, if the work 
proves successful, something substantial may be 
realised for the benefit of the Shepherd. 

We regret to say, that after all his industry and 
talent have achieved, adversity has been his chief 
companion. His cheerfulness, however, continues 
unabated, and it may be truly said of him, 

"Though fortune's malice overthrows his state, 
His mind exceeds the compass of her wheel." 






SKETCH 



OF THE 



SHEPHERD'S LIFE 



Those persons who, by the force of genius, 
have overcome the difficulties attending a 
humble origin, or have risen above the disad- 
vantages of a defective education, have ever 
been very properly considered extraordinary 
characters. 

Mankind pay homage to those who soar 
above the mass, whether in a natural state of 
society or among civilized communities. In 
the former, unrestrained by those codes of law 



8 SKETCH OP THE 

which protect the weak in intellect against the 
arts of the more cunning, and those deficient 
in physical strength against the assaults of the 
more powerful, great deference is paid to the 
superiority of mental or corporeal endowments. 

It would be unnecessary to suggest to intel- 
ligent readers the proof of this disposition of 
the human heart, conversant as they must be 
with the histories of those countries and those 
eras, in which obscure individuals have start- 
ed from viewless points, to become the leaders 
of myriad armies and countless proselytes, 
the founders of empires and of creeds. 

In our own times, in this most civilized age 
of the world, the same feeling of admiration 
has aided extraordinary talent, (itself the first 
cause of that admiration,) to attain unexam- 
pled success. Our own eyes have beheld in- 
dividuals working their way upward from the 



shepherd's life, 9 

humblest class of society, to the first places in 
literature, and the first rank in arms. These 
instances do not take away from our wonder 
at each new example. For there is far more 
difficulty in our day, in rising above the com- 
mon level, than at those eras, in which less 
information was distributed, and less restraint 
prevailed of actual knowledge upon the ima- 
ginings of genius. 

The spirit of the age is to raise all to a 
happy equality. Every association is form- 
ed upon this principle, every combination 
exists with this idea. Education is work- 
ing wonders, particularly in our own country, 
where its efforts increase in a ratio, that has 
scarce an equivalent in terms. 

Indeed, the first care of all good govern- 
ments is now understood to be, to provide insti- 
tutions for the instruction of the young, and 



10 SKETCH OF THE 

the favorite object of individual philanthropy, 
is to facilitate their progress. 

But where all are provided out of the same 
armory, the contest for victory becomes more 
arduous. In a crowd of equally matched 
combatants, it is the more difficult to ob- 
tain success. 

Among savages, personal bravery and elo- 
quence are qualities in which there is power. 
These draw every thing else within the grasp 
of the possessor. 

In civilized life, competition is extended 
throughout countless varieties of forms, and 
at a certain grade of talent and attainment, 
there is a point above which very few ascend. 
There are thousands of chemists, natural- 
ists, poets, and lawyers, who are all well in- 
formed, intelligent, and respectable in their 
professions. 



shepherd's life. 11 

Through this crowd, the ambitious musi 
pass to reach the distant goal, and he who 
seeks distinction must leave this crowd be- 
hind. The determination is the character- 
istic of genius, but the assistance of the mass 
is not easily won to the support of those, 
who, in striving to ascend, and by that very 
effort, discover their indisposition to linger 
among the million. The first feeling of the 
mass is to doubt the abilities, and certainly 
the success of their late companion j and if 
the rise of the individual is retarded by the 
pressure of poverty, the impediments to his 
progress are generally insurmountable. 

The son of genius experiences the truth 
of these remarks, and it is at the very outset 
of his career, that the circumstances which 
make success so difficult in modern times, 
present themselves in array before him. — 



12 SKETCH OF THE 

When his heart is most susceptible, and his 
sensibilities are most lively, these seem to 
press hardest upon him. It is a crisis 

" Which makes him or undoes him quite." 

But this very difficulty of success in civil- 
ized life, where learning and education are 
more equally diffused, felt as it is by the aspi- 
rant for fame in all its force, only makes suc- 
cess more glorious. If indifference or enmi- 
ty, or ill-natured criticism has caused the 
death of such men as Montesquieu, they have 
also roused the energies of such as Byron. 

Those persons who are curious in their 
speculations upon this subject, will do well 
to consult the entertaining and instruc- 
tive works of D'Israeli, and the recent produc- 
tion of Dr. Madden ; who, however, has drawn 
largely, for the interest he has imparted to his 



shepherd's life. 13 

own opinions, upon those of the former gen- 
tleman. 

To come back to the purpose of this Sketch, 
from which we were naturally led by the recol- 
lection of the difficulties attending the career of 
eminent persons, we cannot but think the au- 
thor of the Familiar Anecdotes in all respects, 
one of the most remarkable men of the day. 
His career is too singular, his triumph too 
admirable, to be passed over without comment. 

There is a propriety in making his charac- 
ter known, when we see with what care " the 
pursuit of knowledge under difficulties " has 
recently been illustrated. Every develope- 
ment of the resources of the human intellect is 
useful, and the weak hand and fainting spirit 
will be strengthened by the recital of the con- 
duct of those who have vanquished poverty and 

ignorance, indifference, criticism, and enmity. 
2 



14 SKETCH OF THE 

In this spirit we have undertaken the Life 
of James Hogg, happier in being able to pour^ 
tray the lineaments of a living character, 
than in being obliged to recal the outlines 
of a lamented friend. 

He has met with many sad reverses since 
he emancipated himself from the ignorance of 
infancy, but his indomitable courage, and his 
frank and manly bearing, have secured for 
him the respect of literary men in every coun- 
try. His reputation as a poet and romance 
writer is established, and we trust that the 
second Burns may yet feel the security of his 
position, far, far removed from the influence 
of undeserved misfortunes, or the treachery of 
pretended friends. Our readers will be aston- 
ished to learn the lowness of the condition 
from which he has so honourably elevated 
himself. Few among the illustrious great 



shepherd's life. 15 

ever rose from so humble a beginning. Even 
our own Franklin, with but a penny roll for 
his breakfast, had the greatest possible ad van- 
tage in his career, over this poor lad wander- 
ing almost naked on the bleak hills of Ettrick. 
No wonder the poet has declared that he 
likes "to write about himself." — He must 
feel an honest pride in having passed safely 
over that season of youthful suffering and 
hapless ignorance, to become the boast of Scot- 
land. If Sir Walter Scott has elaborately 
traced the efforts of his own mind in its 
splendid developement, the Ettrick Shepherd 
may well be excused for telling us, how he has 
triumphed over adversity. From his own ac- 
count of his birth and parentage, as well as 
another which we have derived from the 
widow of his brother Robert, we learn that he 
was the second son of Robert Hogg and Mar* 



16 SKETCH OF THE 

garet Laidlaw, and was born on the 25th of 
January, 1772. His natal day was the an- 
niversary of Burns' birth, and it was marked 
by an occurrence of a truly Scottish charac- 
ter. A messenger was despatched on horse- 
back, -for the midwife whose services were re- 
quired on this occasion, but the night was 
gloomy and dark, the Ettrick " deep in flood " 
and the unfortunate man was drowned in 
the attempt to cross its stream. Neverthe- 
less, by some strange and unlooked for aid, 
the female arrived in time to give her needed 
assistance at the perilous hour. 

His father, and, indeed, his ancestors were 
all Shepherds, and he and his brothers served 
in the same capacity. The eldest, William, 
was formerly, if he is not now, shepherd to Sir 
James Montgomery of the county of Peebles 
in Scotland. David, the third son, was in the 



shepherd's life. 17 

employment of Sir Walter Scott, and Robert, 
the youngest, having also engaged in the 
same pursuit, recently died on his passage to 
the United States, after having been only a 
few days out of port. He has left a widow 
and young family behind him. 

The editor of this work having been writ- 
ten to by James, the poet, to ascertain the sit- 
uation of his brother's family, was pleased to 
learn that they arrived safely in this country, 
and are now very happily situated at Silver 
Lake, in Pennsylvania, where they have 
found a liberal friend and generous landlord 
in Robert H. Rose. Their prospects are quite 
cheering, and the interest they have excited 
is not merely that o£ association with their re- 
lative the poet, but what has also arisen from 
their own exemplary conduct and amiable 

character. 

2* 



18 SKETCH OE THE 

The father of the poet, having saved a con- 
siderable sum of money, commenced the busi- 
ness of a dealer in sheep, and in order to car- 
ry it on more advantageously, took a lease of 
two Ettrick farms, known as Ettrick House 
and Ettrick Hall. His efforts, nevertheless^ 
were unsuccessful. A sudden and general 
depreciation of the value of sheep, and the 
fraudulent conduct of his principal debtor, re- 
duced him to beggary, and he was turned 
forth pennyless upon the world. 

It appears that, during a short prosperity 
which the father of the poet experienced in 
his business, the latter attended a neighbour- 
ing school, but as he was not six years of age 
when he was obliged to leave it, in conse- 
quence of the misfortunes of his parent, he 
had made but little progress, being able 
merely to read the Proverbs of Solomon and 



shepherd's life. 19* 

the Shorter Catechism. Indeed, at that ten- 
der age, even this, under all the circumstan- 
ces, was more than could have been expected. 
It seems that a friendly neighbour, (whose 
name, for the honour of humanity, we here 
preserve) Mr. Brydon of Crosslee, with a con- 
siderate regard for the distressed, engaged 
Mr. Hogg, the Senior, as his shepherd ; 
and, indeed, until his death, proved himself 
a man of true humanity, by many acts of 
kindness towards the family, to which the 
poet has often feelingly alluded. 

Still, however, the children were forced to 
do something for themselves, and at the age 
of seven years, James went to service as a 
cowherd, and received for half a year's ser- 
vice, " a ewe lamb and a pair of shoes." He 
describes himself at this period as somewhat 
eccentiic, running about almost naked, and 



20 SKETCH OF THE 

constantly losing his clothes (such as they 
were) in these rambles among the hills. 

During the winter of the next year, his pa- 
rents managed to send him to a school, at 
which the children of a farmer in the neigh- 
bourhood were instructed, and here, in a Bible 
class, he learned to read correctly. His efforts 
to acquire a knowledge of writing were una- 
vailing. " Every letter," says the poet, " with 
which I disfigured the sheets of paper, was 
nearly an inch in length." No more instruc- 
tion did the young lad ever attain at school. 
For thus, as he expresses himself, " terminat- 
ed my education ! " We are particular in 
the relation of this part of the poet's life, as 
it forms a remarkable contrast with his sub- 
sequent celebrity. 

In the succeeding spring he again returned 
to his occupation of tending the kine, which 



shepherd's life. 21 

was the lowest employment then known in 
Scotland. From this period until he became 
fifteen years of age, he served many different 
masters, but rose at length to the more honour- 
able grade of shepherd's boy. From some 
he received kind treatment and from others 
the reverse. At one time he was almost des- 
titute of clothing, his parents being unable to 
procure him a sufficient quantity to make 
him even tolerably warm, out of the wretched 
pittance of his hard earned wages. His time, 
constantly absorbed by his employment, left 
him without much opportunity for reading, 
and the Bible was the only book to which he 
had free access. 

At this period his natural taste for music 
led him to invest a portion of his scanty wa- 
ges in the purchase of an old violin. In this 
taste he resembled Burns, who was himself a* 



22 SKETCH OF THE 

"fiddler as well as poet." Five shillings, with 
difficulty collected together, determined his 
choice of an instrument. He became a musi- 
cian, and now it is well known among his 
friends, that music is one of the favourite 
amusements of the Shepherd. This very- 
circumstance no doubt had a direct influence 
upon the future literary labours of the Bard ; 
for, when Sir Walter Scott, years afterwards, 
went in search of " the ancient ballad," and 
to gather relics of the forest minstrelsy, he 
found the Shepherd familiar with more tra- 
ditionary accounts, acquainted with more of 
the ancient songs, and possessed of more of 
the spirit of Scottish poetry than any person 
he had yet met in Scotland. This testimo- 
ny is highly encomiastic of the character and 
the talent of the young poet. 

Mr, Hogg's next remove was to Elibank 



shepherd's LIFE. M 

upon Tweed, where he remained a year and 
a half in his old occupation, and thence to 
Willenslee, where he was employed by Mr. 
Laidlaw for two years in succession. It was 
in his eighteenth year that he first saw the 
" Life and Adventures of Sir William Wal- 
lace," and Ramsay's " Gentle Shepherd." — 
It is very curious that Burns mentions the 
game work (the History of Wallace) as the 
first book he ever read in private, and he says 
of it and another, the Life of Hannibalj 
which he read at the same time, that they 
gave him more pleasure than any two books 
he ever saw afterwards. The coincidence 
is exceedingly interesting. It was with the 
greatest difficulty he mastered these works.-— 
His comprehension of the measure was very 
obscure, in consequence of the dialect in which 
the works were composed. 



24 SKETCH OF THE 

Mrs. Laidlaw, the wife of his employer, 
gave him to study, for his edification, some 
books of a theological nature, and among 
others " Burnet's Theory of the Conflagra- 
tion of the Earth." This work almost crazed 
the poor young man. He assures us the con- 
templation of the millenium, with its various 
consequences, " nearly overturned " his brain. 
He now, for the first time, attempted to 
write a letter to his brother. But his speci- 
men of chirography, must, according to his 
own account, have been indeed unique. 
Even Tony Lumpkin would have come off 
conqueror in a contest with the Shepherd. 
Whether his brother ever succeeded in de- 
cyphering the scroll, he has not in his amus- 
ing account of himself, informed us. 
In 1790, at the age of eighteen, he entered 



shepherd's life. 25 

the service of Mr. Laidlaw of Black House, 
with whom he remained until the year 1800. 
It was in 1796 that he first felt the inspiration 
of the Muse. A number of valuable books 
were placed before him by his friend for pe- 
rusal, in which he became deeply interested. 
From the moment he comprehended their 
meaning, his own genius began to arouse 
itself to exertion. 

Led by the prevailing taste of his associates, 
and the attachment which every where shew- 
ed itself for the local traditions of the Scottish 
Muse, Mr. Hogg first turned his attention to 
the composition of songs and ballads, happy 
to hear them chaunted by the neighbouring 
lassies, who rejoiced in the Muse of " Jamie 
the Poeter." 

The difficulties which beset him in his at- 
tempts to write these songs, were of no trifling 
3 



26 SKETCH OF THE 

character. Although in most of the sketches 
of this remarkable man, the following hats 
found a place, we imagine it is too singular, 
and too novel to be omitted by any biogra- 
pher who seeks to illustrate the workings of 
his mind. " I had no more difficulty in com- 
posing songs then, than I have at present. 
But then the writing of them — that was a 
job ! I had no method of learning to write, 
than by following the Italian alphabet, and 
although I always stripped myself of coat 
and vest when I began to pen a song, yet 
my wrist took a cramp, so that I could rarely 
make above four or six lines at a sitting. 

" Whether my manner of writing it out, 
was new I know not, but it was not without 
singularity. Having very little time to spare 
from my flock, which was unruly enough, I 
folded and stitched a few sheets of paper to- 



shepherd's life. 27 

gether, which I carried in my pocket. I had 
no ink-horn, but in place of it, I borrowed a 
small vial, which I fixed in a hole in the breast 
of my waistcoat, and having a cork fastened 
by a piece of twine, it answered the purpose 
fully as well. Thus equipped, whenever a 
leisure minute or two offered, and I had noth- 
ing else to do, I sat down and wrote out my 
thoughts as I found them. This is still my 
invariable practice in writing prose. I cannot 
make out one sentence by study, without the 
pen in my hand to catch the ideas as they 
arise. My manner of composing poetry is 
very different, and I believe much more singu- 
lar. Let the piece be of what length it will, I 
compose and correct wholly in my mind, or 
on a slate, ere ever I put pen to paper, and 
then I write it down as fast as the A. B. C." 
It was in the next year 1797, that he first 



28 SKETCH OF THE 

heard of Burns, whose death had taken place 
during the preceding year. This ignorance 
of the author of Tarn O'Shanter, is not 
strange when we consider the limited oppor- 
tunities of the Shepherd, and the fact that 
Burns' poems had not become familiar to the 
lower classes of Scottish readers. It was not 
until his death that Scotland knew what she 
had lost, or shewed the respect due his great 
talents. 

A very curious description of the Shep- 
herd's feeling is given by himself, on his hear- 
ing for the first time some account of Burns, 
his birth and death, with those anecdotes of 
his condition and character, which were now 
becoming every day more and more the 
topics of conversation among the country folk. 
A half-witted fellow came one day to the hill 
side, and told him the story of Burns, at the 



shepherd's life. 29 

same time repeating as a specimen of his poe- 
try the universal favourite, Tarn O'Shanter. 

The story impressed itself deeply on the 
Shepherd's mind, and before his companion 
left him he could repeat every word of it him- 
self ! A strong memory seems to be the pre- 
rogative of the Bards of Scotland. Sir Wal- 
ter Scott has been known to repeat a poem of 
several hundred lines, merely upon hearing it 
recited once. 

It appears that the ambition as well as the 

memory of the Shepherd was affected by the 

information. On comparing the friendless 

youth of Burns with his own, he found a 

close resemblance between them, and when it 

occurred to him that his own birth-day was 

also that of Burns, that ballads and songs had 

inspired them both, he resolved to " be a poet 

and follow in his steps. " 
3* 



30 SKETCH OF THE 

There was one deficiency in himself which 
quite overpowered the sensitive young Bard. 
He could not write, and he wept to think, 
however fancy and inspiration might impart 
their influence, he could not "catch their 
shadows as they passed. " 

About this period he was attacked violently 
with a complaint to which he had always 
been subject, and during his agony which 
was almost insupportable, he saw his attend- 
ant, an old woman, fall into a swoon on see- 
ing as she imagined, his ghost. But in spite 
of her second sight, and a consultation which 

he overheard as to the best method of laying 

r 
him out, he recovered, thanks to a kind 

Providence and a good physician. 

It appears that all this time he was con- 
stantly practising in song writing, though his 
first published song made its appearance in 



shepherd's life. 31 

1801. At this period England was threat- 
ened with invasion by Napoleon, and not 
only was the materiel of the nation called 
on to defend its shores, but writers of all de- 
scriptions, from the poets, inspired by the di- 
vinity that stirs within them, down to the 
hack writer who toils at a penny a line, were 
active in the cause of their country. 

The Shepherd did not fail to catch the 
glow of feeling pervading every rank, and he 
published anonymously the following popular 
song. As it is referred to in the Anecdotes 
which follow this notice of the author, per- 
haps its insertion here may not be out of place. 

Air. " WocPd an married an a\ " 

My name it is Donald McDonald, 
I live in the Highland's sae grand, 
I've followed our banner, and will do, 



32 SKETCH OF THE 

Wherever my Maker has land. 

When rankit amang the blue bonnets 

Nae danger can fear me ava ; 

I ken that my brethren around me, 

Are either to conquer or fa'. 
Brogues and brochan and a' 
Brochan and brogues and a' ! 
And is na the laddie weel aff 
Wha has brogues and brochan and a' ? 

Short syne we were wonderfu' canty 
Our friends and our country to see ; 
But since the proud Consul's grown vauntie 
We'll meet him by land or by sea. 
Wherever a Clan is disloyal 
Wherever our king has a foe, 
He'll quickly see Donald McDonald, 
Wi' his Highlanders a' in a row. 

Guns and pistols and a' 

Pistols and guns and a' 

He'll quickly see Donald McDonald, 

Wi' guns and pistols and a' ! 



shepherd's life. 

What though we befreendit young Charlie ? 
To tell it I dinna think shame, 
Puir lad ! he came to us but barely, 
And reckoned our mountains his hame ? 
It's true that our reason forbade us, 
But tenderness carried the day ; 
Had Geordie come friendless amang us, 
Wi' him we had a' gane away. 

Sword and buckler and a', 

Buckler and sword and a' ; 

For George we'll encounter the devil, 

Wi' sword and buckler and a'! 



And, O, I wad eagerly press him, 
The keys o' the East to retain ; 
For should he gie up the possession 
We'll soon hae to force them again. 
Than yield up an inch wi' dishonour, 
Though it were my finishing blow ; 
He aye may depend on McDonald 
Wi' his Highlandmen a' in a row. 



34 SKETCH OF THE 

Knees and elbows and a', 
Elbows and knees and a' ; 
Depend upon Donald McDonald, 
His knees and elbows and a'. 

If Bonaparte land at Fort William, 
Auld Europe nae langer shall grane, 
I laugh when I think how we'll gall him 
Wi' bullet, wi' steel and wi' stane. 
Wi' rocks o' the Nevis and Garry, 
We'll rattle him aff frae our shore, 
Or lull him asleep in a cairnie, 
And sing him, " Lochaber no more. " 
Stanes and bullets and a', 
Bullets and stanes and a' ; 
We'll finish the Corsican callan', 
Wi' stanes and bullets and a'. 

The Gordon is gude in a hurry ; 
And Campbell is steel to the bane, 
And Grant, and McKenzie, and Murray, 
And Cam'ron will hurkle to nane. 



shepherd's lite. 35 

The Stuart is sturdy and wannel, 
And sae is Macleod and Mackay, 
And I, their gude brother Mac Donald, 
Sail never be last in the fray. 

Brogues and brochan and a', 

Brochan and brogues and a' ; 

And up wi' the bonnie blue bonnet 

The kilt and the feather and a.' 

This song sprang at once into celebrity. 
It became a universal favourite, and was re- 
ceived at once into all societies. Mr. Hogg 
states that he first sang it at a social meeting 
at the Crown Tavern in Edinburgh, and that 
he left it, at the suggestion of some one, 
whose name he has forgotten, to be properly 
arranged and engraved. In his retreat from 
the gay world, he afterwards heard that it 
was a song in every one's mouth, though 
no one troubled himself to inquire into the 



36 SKETCH OF THE 

condition, or learn the name of the author. 
Two anecdotes are connected with it, which 
we cannot refrain from repeating. Earl Moi- 
ra, commander-in-chief of the forces in Scot- 
land, better known to American readers as 
the Lord Rawdon who served under Corn- 
wallis during the revolution, happened to be 
present at a dinner in Edinburgh where this 
song was sung. After three successive en- 
cores which were complied with, his lordship 
arose, expatiated on its excellence, praised 
the singer who was a very respectable person, 
and offered him his whole influence for any 
thing he could aid him in obtaining from the 
government. 

And yet such is life, — the name of the au- 
thor was never asked. While his verse 
was drawing forth the eulogiums of rank 
and valour, he was never thought of, but was 



shepherd's life. 37 

left in his peasant garb to wander among the 
Scottish hills in penury and ignorance. This 
is too often the lot of the children of genius. 
He who has studied their history, and re- 
flected upon their labours, will have found 
many instances similar to this. They may 
have " made the verses," but another "takes 
the honour." 

Several amusing anecdotes in relation to 
this particular ballad have been recorded by 
the author, and are to be found in a volume 
of his songs recently published in Scotland, 
imperfectly re-published in this country. 

Mr. Hogg's first prose essay was styled 
" Reflections on a view of the Nocturnal 
Heavens, " which was the labour of a week. 
Of the character of this work we are not in- 
formed. 

In 1801, incited by his love of rhyming, 
4 



38 SKETCH OF THE 

and inspired by the example of Burns, he 
resolved, while on a visit to Edinburgh, 
whither he went to dispose of his sheep, to 
publish a collection of his poems. Having", 
however, to trust to his memory for the prin- 
cipal part of them, he made sad work in the 
selection, taking rather those with which he 
was most familiar, than those which were 
really the best. An edition of 1000 copies 
was published, and so far, his " vanity, " as 
Mr. Hogg says, was gratified. But the nu- 
merous imperfections more than out-ba- 
lanced by their annoying palpableness the 
pleasure he otherwise received from being 
in print. 

Without friends, without patronage, the 
Shepherd trusted his poetry to an indifferent 
public, who most generally overlook the 
claims to indulgence which belong to unas- 



shepherd's life. 39 

sisted merit, in the selfish pleasure of exercis- 
ing the right of condemnation. One of the 
poems, "Will an' Keatie," had the usqal 
run through the periodicals of the day, but the 
rest were nearly forgotten, except, perhaps, by 
the London critic, who afterwards dragged 
forth the defective work to annoy the feel- 
ings, if not to injure the prospects of the Bard. 
Sir Walter Scott's first publication fared but 
little better. 

In 1802, a part of Sir Walter Scott's 
work called the Border Minstrelsy had made 
its appearance, and as is well known excited 
much attention. To the third volume of this, 
as will be seen in the anecdotes, Mr. Hogg 
contributed, and due acknowledgements are 
made him for his assistance. It was now 
perceived that a body of sentiment, wit, hu- 
mour, and poetry, lay perdu among the 



40 SKETCH OF THE 

hills and vales, the lakes and glens of Scot- 
land. The ambition of the Ettrick Shep- 
herd was awakened, and though still unfor- 
tunate in his projects, and a voluntary Exile 
for some months from Ettrick, in conse- 
quence of his disasters there, he set about 
collecting, re-composing, and re-constructing 
all the traditions and legends he could gather, 
and the Mountain Bard made its appear- 
ance, dedicated to the author of the Border 
Minstrelsy. It is the opinion of many able 
critics that there are in this volume, some 
compositions of great merit. Mr. Allan Cun- 
ningham in a recent essay on British litera- 
ture, gives it as his opinion, that Oilman's 
Clench is full of tenderness and simplicity, 
and that Willie Wilkin, another tale in the 
same collection, ranks with the Glenfinlas of 
Sir Walter Scott. 



shepherd's life. 41 

" The description of the Spectre Horses," 
is unsurpassed in any ballad. He was at the 
time, in the service of a gentleman of Niths- 
dale. It seems that Sir Walter approved of 
the publication of this volume, and the Shep- 
herd hastened to Edinburgh to avail himself 
of his new popularity and to forward the 
publication. 

Constable at that time had no great admi- 
ration for poetry. If his first opinions had 
prevailed over that consciousness of merit, 
which all literary men possess in some de- 
gree, and which prompted Mr. Hogg to persist 
in printing his book, we should probably have 
heard no more of him. The publisher would 
not touch it, unless first secured by a sub- 
scription list of two hundred names. A list 
of five hundred was soon procured by the au- 
thor, and the speculation contrary to Mr. Con- 
4* 



42 SKETCH OF THE 

stable's calculation, turned out well. From 
this effort of his muse, he derived a very hand- 
some sum, and he received the same year 
about four hundred and thirty dollars, for his 
work on the Cultivation of Sheep. 

From abject penury, he was at once ele- 
vated to comparative independence by the pos- 
session of three hundred pounds. But al- 
though his publisher faithfully accounted to 
him for his share of the receipts, many of 
the patronising subscribers took their co- 
pies and never paid for them. This is a 
common practice, we fear, even to this day. 
Intimate friends and soi-disant patrons expect 
to receive copies of a new work as a com- 
pliment for their good wishes, and an author 
can at any time easity part with a whole 
edition, and be never the better for it either 
in fame or money. The Shepherd expe- 



shepherd's life. 43 

nenced only the usual lot of scribbling hu- 
manity. 

Other consequences took place. The 
possessor of the £300 almost went mad. 
He fell into the same mistake that Burns 
did in the hey-day of his early prosperity, 
taking a farm beyond his ability to culti- 
vate, and struggling for three years out of 
one difficulty into another, until he had 
exhausted means and credit, and even hope 
itself. 

At this turn of his affairs, the Ettrick 
Shepherd shewed the integrity of his char- 
acter and the strength of his fortitude. It 
is in difficulties, whether of a pecuniary 
or any other nature, that genius lifts itself 
above the ordinary evils of life, sooth- 
ed by the consciousness of power and ho- 
nesty of purpose. Mr. Hogg freely gave 



44 SKETCH OF THE 

up all he had to his creditors, and found 
the consequences of his misfortunes less disa- 
greeable in their direct bearing upon him- 
self, than in the effect they produced upon 
the conduct of his former friends. Return- 
ing to Ettrick Forest, he found them unex- 
pectedly changed. Those he once loved 
and trusted, treated him in return with cool- 
ness, if not contempt. His own familiars, 
those almost of his own household, forsook 
him, and the crime of having displayed a 
poetic talent was visited at the hands of his 
associates with the same rigour that other 
lovers of the Muse have been often fated 
to endure. 

It is very singular, that after the affect- 
ing incidents recorded in the lives of literary 
men, and the general condemnation which 
their persecution by ignorant or malicious 



shepherd's life. 45 

contemporaries receives from all virtuous and 
reflecting minds, the same ordeals are ap- 
parently in store for all who feel the inspi- 
ration of genius, and seek to impart its 
fervour to mankind. The celebrated Hume 
in the agony of mental suffering from the 
injustice of the public, almost denied his 
name and country. Dr. Johnson knew 
well the pangs of disappointment, when in 
the bitterness of his heart he exclaimed, 

" Yet think what ills the scholar's life assail, 
Toil, envy, want ; the garret, and the jail. " 

But it is useless to multiply examples of 
the sufferings of merit. They swell the 
History of Literature in all ages, and afford 
the melancholy proof of the existence of 
those hateful principles which deform hu- 



46 SKETCH OF THE 

man nature and disgust us with our own 
species. At this moment, the dying author 
of the Annals of the Parish, has registered 
the sad events of his own chequered life, and 
he informs us in pages, which like the last 
notes of the swan are most affecting, that 
he too has incurred the penalty of genius. — 
persecution and poverty. The classical Dr. 
Valpy arrested him on his arrival in Lon- 
don from Canada, for the tuition fees of his 
three sons, at the very moment when he was 
battling for his rights with a soulless Land 
Company, whose faithful, yet unrequited 
agent he had been. Of such an act we can 
scarcely speak too harshly. Should he ere 
this have closed his painful toil of life, 

" Around his tomb let art and genius weep, 

But hear his death, ye blockheads, hear and sleep." 



shepherd's life. 47 

Under similar reverses the Ettrick Shep- 
herd found his character gone. No one 
would employ him, not even those with 
whom he had already served, and who knew 
his capability and efficiency. 

It was then, as he informs us, " in ut- 
ter desperation " at his prospects among his 
native hills, he resolved to adventure his 
stock of poetry at Edinburgh. In Feb- 
ruary, 1810, it was that " he wrapped his 
plaid around him, " and went to town. 
Here new disappointments met him. He 
found his poetic talents as little valued as his 
capacity for managing sheep. The pub- 
lishers turned a deaf ear to his proposals. 
They were willing to publish on his own 
account, but not a penny would they give 
him or guarantee him for his productions. 
Pressed by poverty, and yet sustained by the 



48 SKETCH OF THE 

recollection of his former partial success, he 
once more ventured to apply to Mr. Con- 
stable, to print a volume for him. The pub- 
lisher seemed to hesitate between the desire 
of obliging and the risk of loss. It was 
only after several interviews that he agreed 
to print an edition of 1000 copies, at 5s. 
each, and to share the profits with the au- 
thor. This speculation turned out badly, as 
it would appear, for Mr. Hogg never received 
a farthing for his share. 

The work was called the Forest Min- 
strel, and is described by its author as con- 
sisting of his early songs, most of them very 
indifferent, and displaying little knowledge 
of life or manners. Indeed, up to this period 
he had not even known what polished so- 
ciety was, being as he describes himself. 



shepherd's life. 49 

'*'• only a sort of natural songster, without any- 
other advantage upon earth." 

Disappointed in the anticipations which 
he had formed, he attempted to estab- 
lish a weekly paper, for which, as he ad- 
mits, he was any thing but qualified. Not 
meeting with encouragement he grew im- 
patient, and began to imagine booksellers 
" the enemies of genius," and printers, the 
tools of the booksellers. 

After running about from one to the 
other, he could not help giving them his 
malediction, for being as he supposed, all 
combined together against him. He re- 
ceived ridicule from one, a subscription from 
another, and advice, that liberal besioivment 
of friendship, from a third. 

At last a person by the name of Ro- 
bertson, a bookseller in Nicholson-street, em- 



50 SKETCH OF THE 

barked in the venture, and a quarto demi 
sheet, price Ad. made its appearance in that 
year. The history of this paper is amusing. 
In the first place, the carrier demanded pay 
for all the presentation copies, and this gave 
much offence. Many persons expected to 
obtain their papers for nothing, many more 
never intended to pay for those they ordered, 
and besides experiencing all this, the Editor 
raw, or to say the least, quite devoid of tact, 
made use of some indecorous expressions in 
his third number, which caused the imme- 
diate withdrawal of seventy-three subscribers ! 

Nothing daunted at his misfortune, he 
set this down to the absurd fastidiousness of 
cockneyism, and made no change in his 
method of expressing himself. 

Another error which he himself soon per- 
ceived, was his indulgence in the company 



shepherd's life. 51 

of Robertson and his companions at a tip- 
pling house, near the Cowgate, where every 
day they drank sufficient to confuse their 
heads, — and to convince Mr. Hogg that he 
was going " straight to the deevil." 

Acting upon a proper impulse, he broke 
off the connexion with his publisher, made 
a new arrangement with the Aikmans, and 
fagged at his hebdomadal for the residue of 
the year. Several persons of great respecta- 
bility contributed to the columns of the 
" Spy. " The matter furnished by the Edi- 
tor himself amounted to eight hundred and 
thirty quarto columns, certainly a proof of 
great industry, if nothing else. It had reach- 
ed the point of remuneration, according to 
Mr. Allan Cunningham, when it was obliged 
to yield to the opposition of those who had pre- 
viously deserted its cause. The paper went 



52 SKETCH OF THE 

out of print, and the author imagines that 
five copies could not now be found in Scot- 
land. 

For the honour of human nature, and 
as a contrast to that indifference or opposi- 
tion in which the public indulge, to the dis- 
comfiture and sorrow of many a sensitive 
man of talent, the conduct of a friend of 
Mr. Hogg, at a time when the failure of 
his periodical, the debts it created at his 
publisher's, and the unabated enmity of a 
portion of his acquaintances, made him feel 
the aggravation of want and poverty, de- 
serves honourable notice. His name is 
Grieve. Neither misfortune nor impru- 
dence could shake his attachment to the 
Shepherd Editor. Not doling out his reluc- 
tant aid to importunity, as is the fashion with 
too many who wish to be patrons, he anti- 



shepherd's life. 53 

cipated the wants and foresaw the necessi- 
ties of his distressed companion, and when 
all else seemed cold or forgetful, watched 
with the interest of true affection over the 
waning fortunes of his unhappy friend. 

The Shepherd retains a warm remem- 
brance of these acts of disinterestedness, and 
has related them in his auto-biographical 
sketches with characteristic fervour. 

The next project in which the Bard en- 
gaged, was that of a Debating Society, in 
which he was chosen Secretary with a salary 
of £20 per annum, which was never paid ! 
This society for three successive years held 
public meetings, at which crowds constantly 
assembled, paying for their admittance and 
taking a deep interest in the discussions. In 
these the Shepherd, though now somewhat 

older than the majority of the members, bore 

5* 



54 SKETCH OF THE 

a conspicuous part. He was told that he 
could not speak, and therefore should not 
make the attempt. His self-confidence 
brought him off with " flying colours." The 
talent remains with him, if we may judge 
from the reports of addresses which he has 
since made on several public occasions. It 
was there that he learned in the sharp contest 
of wit and argument, and from the usual 
expressions of approval, or disapproval, of the 
audience, something of the public taste, if 
not of its caprice. To his mingling in these 
scenes, the Shepherd attributed much of 
his subsequent improvement. He was at 
the same time a regular visiter at the Thea- 
tre, where he was placed upon the free list 
by the manager, Mr. Sidclons. 

He was not an inattentive spectator of 
the literary world amidst the distraction of 



shepherd's life. 55 

his own varying pursuits. The poetry of 
Scott and Byron began to be popular, 
and the Shepherd's ambition seemed to be 
aroused. Mr. Grieve, the friend already 
mentioned, used his influence in persuading 
him once more to try his poetic powers. The 
beautiful Poem of the Queen's Wake was 
accordingly planned, and in a few months 
executed. Even this was almost stifled at 
its birth. It fortunately did not lie forgot- 
ten for years like the first of the Waverley 
Novels, because its early critic was unfavoura- 
ble. Its story is this. It was to have been 
read to one of the author's female friends, 
who, with her husband, was invited to his 
lodgings for that purpose. The opinion was 
to have been given at that domestic tribu- 
nal, the tea-table, where the ladies ever 
find their auditors attentive, and their re- 



56 SKETCH OF THE 

marks, of authority. Before the anxious 
reader had proceeded half a page in his poem, 
he was arrested in his progress by a doubt 
expressed as to the proper use of a word. 
Some one defended the author, but others 
condemned him. Indeed the argument so 
entirely engaged the attention of all present, 
that the poem and the reader were quite 
overlooked. The poet could not, with all his 
efforts, proceed a line farther, and finding 
himself quite out of place amidst the general 
debate, he rolled up his manuscript and 
openly declaring his vexation, took up his hat 
and departed. Recalled by this to a sense of 
their impoliteness, the critics appointed ano- 
ther day for a meeting, and the Bard accord- 
ingly wended his way to Buccleugh Place, 
where the reading of the poem was to be 
concluded. Here a laughable scene occur- 



shepherd's life. 57 

red ending in new disappointment. The 
husband of the lady undertook the office 
of reader, but ere he had finished the third 
page, he was called out of the room, by 
the information that an itinerant Improvisa- 
tor was rhyming in the hall. Tired of 
waiting for his return, the poet had the al- 
ternative either to fold up his manuscript 
or go on with the reading to some one else 
who happened to be in the room, but proba- 
bly took as little interest in it as any of the 
others. He preferred the former, and pre- 
sently joined the audience which was now 
collected about the wandering minstrel lis- 
tening to, and apparently delighted with the 
wretched doggerel of a gaberlunzie ! 

Mr. Hogg's was very angry, as may be 
well imagined, and he walked off in high 
displeasure at this treatment. Reader, if thou 



58 SKETCH OF THE 

hast a touch of the poetic fire, or even if 
thou hast recently found out, that thy lu- 
cubrations have been all thy life time em- 
bodied in prose, and on some occasion hast 
been tempted by thine ardour, or thy self- 
confidence, to open thy heart to thy friend, 
and thy manuscript to his or her examina- 
tion, thou hast most probably felt, what, un- 
der such circumstances, it was, " to be, to do, 
or to suffer." Warmed by thy subject, 
thou hast eloquently read, as an author only 
can read his own productions, the thoughts 
that breathed, the words that burned. In 
the midst of some delightful passage, where 
thy ardent spirit soared to the third heaven 
of its happiness, thou hast heard thy listen- 
ing friend, in the very critical moment of 
a half-finished sentence, exclaim with a 
yawn, " Excuse me, sir. " " John put on 



shepherd's life. 59 

some more coals, and see what can possibly 
be the matter with the lamp." 

At such a moment, how did thy voice 
break off into silence, thy hand pass hur- 
riedly through thy hair, and thine eye glance 
around to learn the reason of this most un- 
expected interruption. The charm broken, 
thou canst read no longer. An apology for 
having claimed any attention from other 
more agreeable occupations, is made by thee, 
and thou risest from the table, resolved to 
hang no more pearly chains around the 
necks of such queer animals, 

The Shepherd actually could not get a 
hearing beyond the third page. Moliere's 
old housekeeper, must have been another 
Dacier, in comparison with those, who 
could tire at the reading of the "Queen's 
Wake." 



60 SKETCH OF THE 

Mr. Hogg informs us, that he read no 
more poems at Buccleugh Place, and cer 
tainly no one could disapprove of his deter- 
mination. The friend, Mr. Grieve, whose 
name has already been mentioned, kept up 
his confidence by assuring him that his effort 
was a good one, and under this sanction he 
went to see Mr. Constable with his " plan 
of publication." He was received coldly, 
and told to " call again, to-morrow." 

On calling again, he found the pub- 
lisher unwilling to do any thing without 
seeing the manuscript, and having a sub- 
scription list of 200 responsible names. This 
being agreed to, the publisher offered £100 
for the right to print an edition of 1000 
cop es. The conditions were hard, and the 
proposition was disagreeable. Still, however, 
as Mr. Constable declared he would give no 



shepherd's life. 61 

more, the Shepherd obtained a private sub- 
scription through the aid of some personal 
friends, sufficient to meet the views of the 
publisher. 

At this time a young person of the name 
of Goldie, who also belonged to the Debat- 
ing Club, prevailed upon the poet, somewhat 
against his wishes, to shew him the manu- 
script. Upon perusing it he made him an 
offer similar to that of Mr. Constable, with 
the addition of an allowance of the 200 sub- 
scribers for his sole benefit ! This offer in- 
duced the author to attempt better terms with 
Mr. Constable, who, according to his own 
notion, " knew how as well to sell a book 
as buy one." But he was inexorable, and 
having at the time a negotiation on foot 
with Scott, which had created some tem- 
porary excitement, he dismissed the Shepherd 
6 



62 SKETCH OF THE 

with a curse on the ingratitude of literary 
men! 

The work came from the press of Goldie, 
in the early part of 1813. The circum- 
stances attending its publication are worthy 
of notice. They form another page in the 
book of life, another incident in the story of 
authorship and poetry. Almost in despair, 
he had cast his bread upon the waters, but, 
according to promise, he found it again before 
many days. The poet went up to town to 
learn the fate of his production. He saun- 
tered about the streets, and eyed the shop 
windows of the booksellers as he passed, to 
see, if possible, whether it was yet on sale. 
He beheld the title, to his great satisfaction, 
displayed in most of them, but he had not 
the courage to go m and ask a single ques- 
tion. He compared himself to a " man be- 



shepherd's life. 63 

tween life and death, waiting the sentence of 
the jury." We can scarcely conceive any 
thing more naive or affecting than this con- 
fession. While hundreds were at the very 
moment, perusing the poem with pleasure and 
astonishment, the poor author was wander- 
ing through the town, afraid even to inquire 
about its reception. 

At last, as he was lounging along the 
High-street, he met a friend by the name 
of Dunlop, whose characteristic salutation 
the Bard has recorded. " Ye useless poetical 
deevii that ye're. What hae ye been doing 
a' this time? Why hae ye been pestering 
us, ye stupid head, wi' fourpenny papers, an* 
daft shilly shally sangs, an' blatherin' an' 
speakin' in the forum, an' had stuff in ye 
to produce sic a thing as this 7 " 



64 SKETCH OF THE 

" Ay, Willie," replied the Shepherd, " ye 
hae seen my new beuk ? " 

"Ay, faith," said his friend, "that I have, 
and it has lickit me out o' a night's sleep, 
Ye hae hit the right nail on the head now. 
Yon's the very thing, sir." 

" I'm glad to hear ye say sae, Willie," an- 
swered the poet, " but what do ye ken about 
poems ? " 

" Never ye mind," said Dunlop, " how 1 
ken. I gie ye my word, yon's the thing that 
will do. If ye had na made a fool o' your- 
sei afore, man, yon wad hae eold better than 
ever a beuk sold ! Wha would hae thought 
it, that there was as muckb in that sheep's 
head o' yours, ye stupid poetical deevil as 
ye are." 

This gave the Shepherd so much delight, 
and withal so much confidence, that he be- 



SHEPHERD'S LIFE. 65 

gan to walk more erectly, and, as he met his 
acquaintances one after the other, he heard 
little else from them, than liberal commenda- 
tions. 

The popularity of this poem seemed es- 
tablished at once. The Eclectic Review, 
however, attacked it, and the Edinburgh 
was silent until the appearance of the se- 
cond or third edition. It gave a favourable 
notice, only when its opinions were no longer 
of importance to the author. He mentions, 
in his life, that nothing of his composition 
has since been honoured with Mr. Jeffrey's 
notice. 

The reputation of the Queen's Wake 
is now fully established. The design is 
good, and the execution, though unequal 
in its parts, is marked by all the characteris- 
tics of true genius. 



SKETCH OF THE 



The story of Kilmeny is universally ad- 
mitted to be chaste and original, and its dic- 
tion is exquisitely sweet and harmonious. 
The Queen's Wake has been no less popular 
in this country than in Great Britain. Per- 
haps there is not a modern poem in our 
language, which has had a greater circula- 
tion in the United States than this. 

From his dream of happiness, Mr. 
Hogg awoke to the reality of disappoint- 
ment. His publisher became involved in 
the distress of many other small booksellers, 
and after preventing by personal interference, 
the publication of a third edition by Mr. Con- 
stable, undertook it himself and stopped 
payment a week afterwards. Thus the 
money previously gained by the work 
was lost, and all the hopes which he had 
cherished, of being able to repair his for- 



shepherd's lite. 67 

mer mistakes, and pay off his old debts, were 
blighted at a breath. 

It was on this occasion that he first be- 
came acquainted with Mr. Blackwood, the 
publisher. He was one of Goldie's assignees, 
and his management, as well as that of his 
associates, eventuated in the preservation of 
the residue of the edition remaining on the 
publisher's shelves. A considerable sum was, 
in consequence, realized by the sale of it. 

About this period, his acquaintances were 
considerably numerous among the literary 
characters of the town, and while with some 
he was on terms of great intimacy, with 
most he practised a reserve, which prevented 
them from considering his intercourse pre- 
suming or troublesome. 

If it were germane to the pubject, we 
could here relate some curious circumstances 



6& SKETCH OF THE 

under which his friendship commenced with 
Mr. Wilson, the author of the Isle of Palms, 
and the present Editor of Blackwood's Maga- 
zine. One remark in relation to it, we 
must not omit, since it refers to Sir Walter 
Scott. Mr. Hogg intimates that through him 
he might have been easily made acquainted 
with Mr. Wilson, although Mr. Scott rarely 
introduced any one person to another, or judg- 
ed it of any avail. 

Such was the popularity of the Queen's 
Wake, that a fourth edition was published by 
Messrs. Murray and Blackwood, but it pro- 
duced no solid returns. A fifth, a beautiful 
specimen of typography succeeded better. 
Of this poem, which, as we have already 
stated, has been scarcely less admired in 
America than in Great Britain, the author 
appears not to have had a high opinion. 



shepherd's life. 69 

He considered it as a device merely to string 
together a series of ballads, which were 
not equal in merit, nor interesting in their 
design. The public have judged otherwise, 
and in his country the editions are entirely 
exhausted. Moore is supposed to have 
taken his idea of Lalla Rookh, which ap- 
peared in 1817, from the Q,ueen's Wake. 
There is certainly a strong resemblance in 
the plan. During one of Mr. Hogg's tours 
in the Highlands, which, about this period of 
his life, he was accustomed every summer 
to make, he became an inmate of Kinnaird 
House, in Athol. The fair mistress of the 
mansion, Mrs. Chalmers Izett, introduced him 
into a small study, where books and writing 
materials were placed before him, with a re- 
quest that he would consider himself at home 
and amuse himself as he thought proper. On 



70 SKETCH OF THE 

accepting the offer, he asked the lady for a 
subject, and she gave him the "majestic 
river rolling beneath his eyes." 

Inspired as it would seem by the occa- 
sion and the request, he stole time enough 
from his fishing excursions to write Madoc 
of the Moor. This, although a favourite with 
the author, for the descriptions of nature 
which it contains, has never acquired the 
popularity which attended the " Queen's 
Wake." We imagine it is quite worthy of 
the preference he entertained for it. The 
measure, that of Spenser, it must be consi- 
dered, is difficult, and when the subject itself 
is of a grave character, it falls heavily on the 
ear, and conveys its ideas slowly to the mind. 
The Shepherd, after an animated discussion 
with his lady patroness, took the Tay for 
his subject, and commenced the Poem. 



shepherd's life. 71 

Not only are the descriptions generally 
well written, but there are occasional pas- 
sages truly exquisite. We select the follow- 
ing at hazard, as a specimen. 

When summer suns around the zenith glow, 

Nature is gaudy, frolicsome, and boon . 

But when September breezes cease to blow, 

And twilight steals beneath the broaden'd moon, 

How changed the scene ! the years resplendent noon, 

Is long gone past, and all is mildly still ! 

Sedateness settles on the hill and doone, 

Wan is the flow'ret by the mountain rill, 

And a pale boding look, sits solemn on the hill. 

In the same year, he conceived the no- 
tion of writing a poetical volume of a ro- 
mantic character, to be entitled Mid Sum- 
mer Night Dreams. A friend appealed to 
for his opinion in the matter, advised against 



72 SKETCH OF THE 

the scheme, and it fell through. u Con- 
nel of Dee," one of the series, has since made 
its appearance as a part of the " Winter 
Evening Tales." 

Another literary effort of the author's dur- 
ing the same year, was the Pilgrims of 
the Sun, published in consequence of the 
good opinion entertained of it, by the same 
person who advised against the " Midsum- 
mer Night Dreams." 

Mr. Hogg frankly declares, that in those 
who praised his works he placed implicit con- 
fidence, and for those who did otherwise, he 
entertained very little regard ! A prompting 
of nature, which every author feels to be a 
part of his own indwelling fancies. 

In bringing out this poem, there oc- 
curred the usual difficulties of negotiation 
with the publishers. By the advice of Mr. 



shepherd's life. 73 

Constable, who evaded the risk and trouble of 
the publication, the manuscript was put into 
the hands of Mr. Miller, and a regular con- 
tract was made with him for its appearance 
from the press within two months, and in 
conformity with the stipulations made by 
the parties respectively. 

Mr. Miller, however, thought proper to 
change his mind ; and on Mr. Hogg's re- 
quiring him to proceed with the work, or re- 
turn the manuscript, he very promptly avail- 
ed himself of the latter alternative, and thus 
rid himself at once of his responsibility. 

The manuscript was afterwards placed in 
the hands of Mr. Murray, the London book- 
seller, who suddenly became as doubtful of 
its success as Mr. Miller had been. He 
would not allow his name to appear upon the 

title-page. The Author contented himself 

7 



74 SKETCH OF THE 

with the retaliatory assertion, that Murray and 
his advisers could not write as well, and 
with this remark, he informs us, he pleased 
himself, and overlooked the affront. 

When the Poem came out, it was well 
received by the public ; yet, though it was 
praised in the Reviews, and a very large edi- 
tion of it was sold in America, it loaded the 
booksellers' shelves in Great Britain, and may 
possibly do so yet. 

It was evidently very little of a favourite 
with the Trade, and, from the circumstance 
of Mr. Murray's not allowing his name to be 
connected with it, was liable to be received by 
them with great distrust and suspicion. This 
is one of the secrets of publication, which by 
this time Mr. Hogg must have fully dis- 
covered. 

The Pilgrims of the Sun is a wonderful 



shepherd's life. 75 

effort of the imagination. It is in Poetry, 
what one of Martin's productions is in Paint- 
ing. It has illimitable perspective, vast out- 
lines, and a sublime effect. There is even 
something Miltonic in the grandeur of the 
description of other worlds, and certainly 
there can be nothing more sweet and touch- 
ing than the return of the Pilgrim to her 
home and her mother. 

His next literary adventure was of a dif- 
ferent character. He proposed editing a vo- 
lume of Poetry, to consist of original compo- 
sitions from the pens of the most distinguish- 
ed authors of the country, and he applied to 
them individually for their assistance in his 
scheme. From Southey and Wordsworth he 
obtained poems of superior excellence ; — from 
Byron and Rodgers, although he had their 
promises, he received nothing. In his account 



76 SKETCH OF THE 

of this project, he mentions his ignorance of 
the cause of Lord Byron's conduct. 

In the Life of the noble bard, his biogra- 
pher, Moore, avows he dissuaded him 
from the performance of his engagement, 
out of regard to his interests. The poem 
intended for Mr. Hogg was the celebrated 
Lara; and its author thought well of the 
plan of which it was to be a part, and which 
he compared to a similar one of Dodsley's 
which had proved successful. 

It appears from the published letters of 
Lord Byron, that he esteemed the Shepherd 
highly, and recommended him to Mr. Mur- 
ray. A correspondence of some length took 
place between them, of which Mr. Hogg has 
spoken with great animation. 

Mr. Hogg mentions that one letter, and the 
last, was written to him by Lord Byron, after 



shepherd's life. 77 

the birth of his daughter Ada ; and in that, 
his affection for his wife and daughter was 
very evident. The Shepherd complains 
that these valued testimonials have been 
taken from him by visiters, without his 
knowledge or approbation. 

The refusal of Scott to contribute any 
thing to the proposed volume overthrew the 
whole design. It was in vain the Shepherd 
reminded him of his services, in adding to the 
treasures of the Border Minstrelsy. The 
appeal was fruitless, and the result an 
estrangement of the two Bards. In the 
forthcoming Life of Sir Walter by Mr. Lock- 
hart, the mystery of the refusal may be un- 
ravelled. 

The Shepherd resented his conduct warm- 
ly, and candidly admits that he addressed him 

a letter couched in very intemperate language, 

7* 



78 SKETCH OF THE 

and for a long time refused to speak to him. 
Under the influence of these feelings, he re- 
solved to outdo even his contributors, by an 
imitation of their various styles, to be collect- 
ed in a work to be called the Poetic Mirror. 
So complete was the deception, that one of 
the poems, which was read aloud by Mr. 
Ballantyne at a dinner party, was unani- 
mously pronounced to be an original produc- 
tion of Lord Byron. 

The work was composed in three weeks, 
and published in three months afterwards. 
The first edition sold in six weeks, and an- 
other has since been exhausted. It was 
produced anonymously, and but for a bung- 
ling imitation of Wordsworth, might, as the 
Poet imagines, have passed for a genuine 
work. 

During the next year, he attempted some 



shepherd's life. 79 

dramatic compositions, as almost all literary 
men, at one time or other, have done. There 
is a fascination in the Drama, which has spell- 
bound, even the learned professions. Theo- 
logians and law3 T ers, as well as poets, have 
attempted, and some with great success, to 
hold its " mirror up to nature." 

None of Mr. Hogg's plays have been per- 
formed, and the want of interest they possess- 
ed induced him to give up this species of com- 
position. A curious change in his literary 
views took place about this time. Mortified 
most probably at the want of success with 
which his poetic efforts had been rewarded, 
he resolved to give up poetry for prose ; and, 
" save an idle story or two," and the finishing 
of a poem in hand, Q,ueen Hynde, he ad- 
hered to his determination. 

Queen Hynde received the approbation 



80 SKETCH OF THE 

of Sir Walter Scott and many other judicious 
critics ; but, though a large edition was sold, 
it did not take with the public, much to the 
Author's surprise. The subject was local, 
and the time of its action was laid as far back 
as the incursions of the Danes. At a dinner, 
given to him by some of his admirers in 
Scotland, a warm dispute arose as to the merits 
of this poem and the Queen's Wake ; and 
the Poet, in the zeal of his preference for the 
former, offered to back his opinions with a bet 
of the whole edition ! 

It was at this time, the project for the esta- 
blishment of the Magazine, since known as 
Blackwood's, was first talked of by Mr. Hogg. 
He has given a very amusing account of the 
intrigues attending it, the jealousies of the 
rival editors, and the fears of contending pub- 
lishers. " The Chaldee Manuscript " arose 



. 



shepherd's life. 81 

out of the circumstance ; the composition of 
which, though formerly in doubt, is now ad- 
mitted to be his. It caused a great sensation 
in Edinburgh at the time. The subsequent 
connexion of Mr. Hogg with the Magazine, 
did every thing to establish its fame and in- 
crease its value. 

The next work of his production, 
was the Brownie of Bodsbeck, brought 
out after Old Mortality, though written pre- 
viously. In consequence of the delay of pub- 
lication, which was owing to Mr. Blackwood, 
it was pronounced an imitation of Sir Walter 
Scott's work ; whereas, in fact, it was a com- 
position of an earlier date. In this the Shep- 
herd was again unfortunate. 

Mr. Hogg, in his reference to these impu- 
tations of want of originality, asserts that he 
has found publishers not trust-worthy in these 



82 SKETCH OF THE 

matters ; because they do not read the manu- 
script themselves, but adopt the opinions of 
some one in their employment, who is paid 
for his services as a critic. 

Publishers are certainly justifiable in pro- 
tecting themselves from risk by taking advice, 
for in most instances, the public taste cannot 
be divined ; and the manuscript approved in 
private, often falls short of its imagined popu- 
larity when it has left the press. All adven- 
turers in literature have this difficulty to over- 
come ; but Mr. Hogg attributed his multiform 
casualties not only to the want of judgment 
in the publishers themselves, but to the influ- 
ence of the aristocracy upon those publishers. 
" For my own part, I know that I have al- 
ways been looked on by the learned part of 
the community as an intruder in the paths of 
literature, and every opprobrium has been 



shepherd's life. 83 

thrown on me from that quarter. The walks 
of learning are occupied by a powerful aristo- 
cracy, who deem that province their peculiar 
right, else what would avail them all their 
dear-bought collegiate honours and degrees 1 
No wonder they should view an intruder from 
the humble and despised ranks of the com- 
munity with a jealous and indignant eye, and 
impede his progress by every means in their 
power." This idea may, in some measure, 
have arisen from the difficulties which beset 
his early path. We are informed, that Mr. 
Hogg has latterly been much caressed in the 
circles of which he was once so suspicious. 
The caprice of the fashionable world is greater 
however than its respect for talent. The 
treatment of Burns might have been in his 
mind's eye at the moment he wrote the 
sentences we have quoted. 



84 SKETCH OF THE 

It is well known, that, during the height 
of his popularity, the Duchess of Gordon took 
his arm at a fashionable assembly, and dis- 
tinguished him by a marked attention. It 
was not long, however, or ere his shoes were 
old, before he found the poet forgotten in the 
ploughman, and his fashionable friends turn- 
ing away their eyes from him, as he passed, 
lest he might claim the recognition they were 
once anxious to offer. 

The Shepherd, if he has not discovered the 
keen sensibilities of the unhappy Burns, has 
been blessed with a temperament more reso- 
lute and unyielding. Reposing upon the con- 
sciousness of integrity, and having a bold and 
manly spirit, he seems to have sustained him- 
self under vicissitudes which broke the heart 
of Burns. 

The neglect of the aristocracy, however 



shepherd's life. 85 

marked, never affected the Shepherd's tran- 
quillity to any great degree ; and the very in- 
dependence of his manner had the effect to 
retain the friendship of that portion of it 
which was worth possessing. 

Mr. Hogg's love of conviviality was not 
without its bad consequences. In the instance 
we are to relate, however, it led to a reconcilia- 
tion with Sir Walter Scott. He relates of him- 
self, that, in consequence of the dissipation pre- 
valent among the members of a curious club, 
called the "Right and Wrong" (from a rule 
of the society, that, whatever any member 
said should be supported by the others, no 
matter whether "right or wrong,") he became 
very ill, and was for three weeks under the 
hands of Dr. Saunders. Sir Walter, notwith- 
standing the warm language and avowed hos- 
tility of the Shepherd, and the interruption 
8 



86 SKETCH OF THE 

of all intercourse for a twelve-month previous, 
made daily inquiries after his health. He also 
requested that he might have the best medical 
advice in Edinburgh, without regard to the 
expense, which he would himself willingly 
incur. And this, too, was accompanied by 
the condition, that the invalid should not, on 
any account, be informed of the circum- 
stances. This kind and considerate conduct 
was accidentally discovered some months 
afterwards, by the convalescent, and it went 
straight to the heart of the grateful man. He 
immediately addressed an apologetical letter to 
his estranged friend, in which the whole soul 
of. the writer was poured forth in apologies 
and regrets. The next day it was replied to in 
the shape of an invitation to breakfast, which 
was willingly accepted. In a walk which they 
took together the same day, the Shepherd en- 



shepherd's life. 87 

deavoured to introduce the subject of their 
differences, but Sir Walter adroitly parried 
every attempt to give the subject a re-considera- 
tion. He wished by-ganes to be by-ganes, and 
it is an inference of Mr. Hogg's, — now all is 
forgiven and forgotten, that no unfriendly 
feeling actuated the refusal to contribute to the 
Poetic Mirror. 

Mr. Hogg has recorded an anecdote of a 
quarrel with Mr. Wilson, which had a similar 
termination, from the magnanimity of his 
opponent. Mr. Wilson criticized a poem of 
his, called the "Field of Waterloo," with a 
degree of severity which threw its author into 
a violent rage. He wrote the critic a most 
irritating letter, to which he received a reply, 
that was both an explanation and apology. 
This melted the heart of the Shepherd, and 
has induced him since to overlook the play- 



SO SKETCH OF THE 

fulness, or mischievousness, of many liberties 
which the same person has since taken with 
his name. Poems, letters, and essays, and 
indeed many of the far-famed Noctes of 
Blackwood, have, doubtless, been 'palmed off 
successfully as Mr. Hogg's productions, by the 
author of the Isle of Palms. 

Mr. Hogg informs us, that his next literary 
undertaking, was the Jacobite Relics of Scot- 
land. The cause of the Stuarts, it is well 
known, went hand in hand with wild ro- 
mance. The attachment of the Scottish 
people to that family, survived two bloody 
conflicts, and the passionate loyalty which 
the clans displayed for a great number of 
years, was only put down by the severity of 
sanguinary laws,. It is very certain, if we may 
believe the secret histories of the times, that 
the Hanoverians, on coming to the throne of 



shepherd's life. 89 

England, displayed as much selfishness, and 
as great a disregard to morality, as the weak- 
minded Stuarts themselves. The " Jacobite 
Muse" was not slow in perceiving their errors, 
and the satire and point of the Scottish songs 
were keenly felt by the individuals at whom 
they were aimed. 

The popularity of these productions has con- 
tinued to the present time ; and, indeed, if the 
language of the heart is any where to be dis- 
covered, — if pathos and passion, — if truth and 
natural feeling are embodied in any poetry, they 
are so in these relics of the Scottish Minstrelsy. 

There is a nationality about the Scotch, 
which has always had an influence in their 
preservation, and, perhaps, among the collect- 
ors of these memorials, none has exceeded our 
author in zeal. We believe we hazard no- 
thing in saying, that few have entered into 
8* 



90 SKETCH OF THE 

the subject with more feeling, or obtained 
more signal success. He took great pains to 
gather every fragment, and to collect every 
fact relating to the subject, and often, in his 
researches, encountered the opposition, and 
brought upon himself the suspicions, of the 
Highlanders themselves. 

He has recorded several anecdotes, illus- 
trative of this peculiarity. When he told them 
he was gathering up old songs, they would 
reply to him, " Ohon, mon, you surely haif 
had very less to do at home, and so you want 
to get some of the songs of the poor repellion- 
ers from me, and then you will gie me up to 
King Shorge, to be hanged ! Hoo, no, that 
will never do, mon !" 

Of the work itself, we can only say, that it 
has taken high rank among the other collec- 
tions of the day, and no one pretends to investi- 



shepherd's life. 91 

gate the merits of the Jacobite Minstrels, with- 
out examining the specimens obtained by Mr. 
Hogg. It was about the same time that the 
Winter Evening Tales made their appearance. 
The publishers were Oliver & Boyd. It is be- 
lieved that this collection was chiefly the com- 
position of his early years, which will, in the au- 
thor's opinion, account for their "blunt rustici- 
ty." Some objections have been taken to them 
on account of an occasional indelicacy which 
has been permitted to creep into the text.* 

The author asserts that he attempted to 
describe things as they were, without intend- 
ing any thing ill, and he prays to be forgiven 
by " God and man," for every word he may 
have written " injurious to religion and vir- 
tue." With such a disclaimer, even the most 

* The Bridal of Polmood, a very interesting and ori- 
ginal tale, has been objected to, on this account. 



92 SKETCH OF THE 

fastidious must be satisfied. The tales them- 
selves are productions of merit. The Shep- 
herd's Calendar is a beautiful picture of the 
incidents of a shepherd's employment. The 
story of the Long Pack is universally popular, 
and had a circulation in the United States 
quite unprecedented. It was reprinted in 
newspapers and magazines, and was the prin- 
cipal treasure of the almanacks of the day. 

To foreign readers, it may net be amiss 
to mention, that, in no country in the world, 
is there such a quantity of almanacks annual- 
ly sold as in the United States. The Long 
Pack gave interest to some of these. 

The American edition of the Tales is 
supposed to be almost out of print. 

In the same year of the publication of 
this work, the Shepherd, tired of his bache- 
lor's life, married the youngest daughter of 



shepherd's life. 93 

Mr. Phillips, of Longbridge Moor, Annandale. 
She is still living, and has proved the Poet's 
best solace in his hours of despondency. His 
cottage on the " Altrive Lake V now truly be- 
came his home, and here he has since con- 
stantly resided. 

His farm, which is known by that name, 
was given him in 1814, by the Duke of Buc- 
cleugh, (a descendant of the Scotts of Har- 
den,) at a time when he was without a place 
that he could call his own, and while, like 
Burns, he was alternately experiencing in 
the metropolis, the gales of success and dis- 
appointment. 

The Shepherd found himself unnoticed 
by the mass of the aristocracy, but one of its 
proudest ornaments, the Duchess of Buc- 
cleugh, had observed with attention the pro- 
gress of his labours. This lady, who was of 



94 SKETCH OF THE 

the Townshend family, on which was con- 
ferred, in 1783, the title of Sydney, had 
made it a particular request, that some fitting 
residence on the family estates in Dum- 
friesshire, should be conferred on Mr. Hogg", 
as a tribute to his talents and worth. On 
her death in 1814, her wishes appear to 
have excited the generous impulses of her 
husband's heart, and in a long letter to the 
Shepherd, he informed him of the regard 
entertained for him by the late Duchess, and 
his ready compliance with her wishes. The 
farm already mentioned was in this manner 
bestowed, the rent being made merely nomi- 
nal, and here the poet was enabled, as he often 
congratulated himself upon his ability to do so, 
to shelter the grey head of his father, "among 
his native moors and streams, where each 
face was that of a friend, and every house 



shepherd's life. 95 

was a home." Of these two benefactors 
the poet ever speaks with gratitude, and 
in the society of the Duke of Buccleugh 
he often found happiness and gathered 
hope. It appears that the death of his 
benefactress was soon followed by that of his 
benefactor, whom the sufferings of "a discon- 
solate heart " brought to an early grave. 

It appears that the later success of his 
literary efforts, induced the Shepherd to run 
some new risks in his agricultural pursuits. 
Ascertaining, after his marriage, that he had 
about 1000J. due from his different publishers, 
he resolved to try farming on a large scale, 
and accordingly took a farm adjoining his 
own. The place had already ruined the two 
previous tenants, but confidence in his ability 
to resort to his pen in case of ^necessity, in- 
duced him to make the experiment. 



6 

96 SKETCH OF THE 



The arrangement required a considerable 
outlay, as the farm, according to the calcula- 
tions of Scottish husbandly, was to be stocked 
with one thousand sheep, twenty cows, and 
five horses ; besides which a large expenditure 
was to be made for fencing, draining, manur- 
ing, labourers' utensils, and suitable buildings. 

Indeed, the expense would have been 
considered an insuperable objection to most 
American farmers, under similar chcum- 
stances. The Shepherd, bold and fearless, 
ventured upon the trial. But, notwithstand- 
ing the return from the farm and the gain of 
upwards of $4000 by his writings in the next 
two years, he fell into difficulties, which, 
in the end, left him in a worse situation than 
when he began ; and, at the age of sixty, 
when his lease of the second farm terminated, 
he was without six-pence in the world. His 



shepherd's life. 97 



:s amou 



losses amounted to $10,000, but he bore them 
with philosophy. The deficiency arising 
from his farm speculations, and which he be- 
gan to feel in 1822, induced him once more 
to try his fortune as a writer. In a few 
months, he finished a work familiar to many 
of my readers, called "The Three Perils of 
Man : War, Women, and Witchcraft." 
Messrs. Longman & Co. printed it for him, 
and he realized about $750 for the edition 
of one thousand copies. 

Of this production the Author speaks 
more harshly than even the critics, — " Im- 
patient to get hold of some of Messrs. Long- 
man & Co.'s money or bills, I dashed on. 
and mixed up, with what might have made 
one of the best historical tales our country 
ever produced, such a mass of diablerie as 
9 



98 SKETCH OF THE 



,*• 



retarded the main story and made the whole 
perfectly ludicrous." 

The next year he published " The Three 
Perils of Women," which produced him 
the same sum of money. This, in his 
opinion, possessed " absurdity as well as 
pathos." 

" I was then." says Mr. Hogg, " writing 
as if in desperation, but I now see matters in 
a different light." This is a common feeling 
when we bring a cool dispassionate judgment 
to bear upon our previous efforts made under 
any excitement ; but we imagine the con- 
demnation of the work in question leans to 
the extreme of severity. 

In 1824, he published anonymously, a 
book full of "horrors," called "Confessions 
of a Sinner." Jt sold tolerably well, but 
never produced any thing to the Author. 



shepherd's life. 99 

A previous work, in one volume, with 
which we have no acquaintance, from the 
same publishers, had no better fate. They 
were, however, offered a third, called " Lives 
of Eminent Men," which they refused, be- 
cause the former works had been censured. 
With all due regard to our esteemed Bard, 
we should suppose this last was an under- 
taking, to which, considering the turmoil 
of his life, he could scarcely have brought 
the necessary research. It is not necessary 
here to enlarge upon the pecuniary transac- 
tions connected with these publications. 

The failure of the " Queen Hynde," as 
we have already mentioned, so discouraged 
him, that he resolved never again to attempt 
a long poem, and he continued for many 
years afterwards to write shorter pieces. 



100 SKETCH OF THE 

which have been the gems of Blackwood and 
of other magazines and annuals. 

Among these was a poetical Masque, con- 
taining many fine songs, written during the 
visit of George IV. to. Scotland, which was 
published by Blackwood, and for which the 
only return the Author received was the 
thanks of the King, in a note from Sir Robert 
Peel Amid the embarrassments resulting 
from his accumulated losses, he was relieved 
to the amount of $1000 by the publication of 
an edition of his best poems, in four volumes, 
by Messrs. Constable & Co. 

Blackwood, according to the Shepherd's 
account, had driven him almost "beyond the 
bounds of human patience." Besides having 
been narrow and contracted in his dealings, 
he has misrepresented him in his magazine. 
No longer a contributor where he had been a 



shepherd's life. 101 

founder, he complains that his sentiments 
have been caricatured, and his words mis- 
quoted. The American reader of Blackwood 
must have noticed in the celebrated articles 
called The Noctes, that the Shepherd has 
often appeared there as a very singular cha- 
racter, and we have not a single doubt that 
his boldness of opinion has often been dis- 
torted into whimsicality, and indifference to 
propriety. 

Of this publisher he says, " I have often 
been urged to restrain and humble him by 
legal measures, as an incorrigible offender 
deserves. I know I have it in my power, 
and if he dares me to the task, I want but a 
hair to make a tether of? That all this is 
not said without provocation, may be inferred 
from an observation in an article of the 

Quarterly Review, and we cannot help 
9* 



102 SKETCH OF THE 

quoting it in this place as irrefragable proof 
of the Shepherd's just cause of complaint. 

" A more worthy, modest, sober, and loyal 
mail does not exist in his Majesty's do- 
minions, than this distinguished poet, whom 
sopae of his waggish friends have taken up 
the idea of exhibiting in print as a sort of 
boozing buffoon, and who is now, instead of 
revelling in the license of tavern suppers and 
party politics, bearing up as he may, against 
severe and unmerited misfortunes, in as 
dreary a solitude as ever nursed the melan- 
choly of a poetical temperament." 

In 1829, Mr. Hogg proposed the publica- 
tion of a series of Tales, to be called the 
Altrive Tales, from the name of his residence. 
A series of negotiations with Mr. Blackwood 
for their publication ended unsuccessfully, and 
with this result, souring him against the Bail- 



shepherd's life. 103 

lie, he went to London and secured the publi- 
cation of the first volume there. Cochrane & 
Co. brought it out, in 1832, in a very hand- 
some form. The plan was to publish twelve 
volumes of Tales collected among the Scot- 
tish Peasantry, and the Author considers the 
projected work as a probable inheritance for 
his children, if not a legacy to his country. 
Mr. Hogg's visit to London was, we be- 
lieve, on the whole unfortunate. His pub- 
lishers failed, and he was driven to the 
necessity of throwing himself upon the kind- 
ness of his literary friends for temporary as- 
sistance. We are not certaiu whether this 
visit to London was made before or after the 
failure of Mr. Cochrane. Be that as it may, 
the Shepherd was, for the time, the theme of 
the newspapers, and a favoured visitant in 
the houses of the great. He was the princi- 



104 SKETCH OF THE 

pal attraction at a literary festival given at 
Free Mason's Hall, in honour of Burns, 
and was toasted and complimented in the 
most nattering manner. Sir John Malcolm, 
the author of several important works, 
particularly a History of Central India, pre- 
sided, having the Ettrick Shepherd on his 
right hand, and the two sons of Burns on his 
left. On the Shepherd's health being given, 
he returned his acknowledgments in a cha- 
racteristic address, and related many anec- 
dotes connected with his own life, one of 
which we have already mentioned. 

We believe that he has since published 
another edition of the Queen's Wake, and a 
volume of Poems, called the Queer Book. 

The nobility subscribed liberally, and one 
hundred pounds were transmitted him to 
relieve his immediate embarrassments. Since 



shepherd's life. 



105 



that period his literary efforts have been of 
a miscellaneous character, although there 
can be no doubt that he has been engaged 
in the continuation of the Altrive Tales, 
if not of other works of a different stamp. 
He still resides at Altrive. In its neigh- 
bourhood the population is thin, and the 
land not very fertile. His house is neat and 
comfortable, without being large. Its situa- 
tion is picturesque, and it is surrounded with 
all the temptations which the angler and 
fowler find so irresistible. 

A trout brook runs past the door, and the 
Yarrow and St. Mary's Loch are not far 
distant. Inside, the quick eye and ready hand 
of Mrs. Hogg are evident in the neatness of 
the arrangements ; while a select library, 
various pieces of plate, and sporting utensils 



106 SKETCH OF THE 

of different kinds, the gifts of friends, natu- 
rally attract the attention of visitors. 

He is exceedingly fond of fishing and of 
the athletic sports still popular in Scotland, 
and never fails to give a hearty welcome to 
those who break in upon his retreat. 

The following is a list of his works, as 
far as we have been able to ascertain them. 

The Queen's Wake. 

Pilgrims of the Sun. 

The Hunting of Badlewe. 

Madoc of the Moor. 

Poetic Mirror. 

Dramatic Tales. 

Brownie of Bodsbeck. 

Winter Evening Tales. 

Sacred Melodies. 

Border Garland. 

Jacobite Relics of Scotland. 



i 



shepherd's life. 107 

The Spy. 

Queen Hynde. 

The Three Perils of Man. 

The Three Perils of Woman. 

Confessions of a Sinner. 

The Shepherd's Calendar. 

A Selection of Songs. 

The Queer Book. 

The Royal Jubilee. 

The Mountain Bard. 

The Forest Minstrel. 

The Altrive Tales. 

The particular circumstances which have 
occasioned the publication of the present 
work in this country, the accompanying 
familiar Anecdotes of Sir Walter Scott, are 
perhaps not unworthy a place in this notice 
of their author. 

It was well known to some of the friends 



108 SKETCH OF THE 

of this gifted Bard, that, notwithstanding his 
untiring industry, he was still unfortunate, 
and that the Res angusta domi was still 
pressing upon him with undeserved severity. 
It was a natural wish, therefore, to aid him 
in his attempts to conquer his fate, and offers, 
that may be termed liberal, were made, in 
order to induce him to come before the 
American public, as a contributor to an 
established periodical. The popularity of 
his writings, made his literary aid desirable. 
Large editions of his principal works had 
been sold in this country, and most of them 
are now out of print. It was but a few days 
since, that the writer of the Sketch, was in a 
well-known book-store, when a plainly dress- 
ed countryman came in, and inquired if 
the Brownie of Bodsbeck was on sale there. 
On being informed that there was not a 



shepherd's life. 109 

single copy to be had, he expressed his 
surprise and remarked that where he lived, 
he could sell eighty copies if he had them. 

In reply to the propositions made the 
Shepherd, of the friendly character alluded to, 
a communication was received of a very 
interesting nature. 

In a letter dated the 7th March last, he 

expressed himself in these words. " I am 

most proud of being valued so highly by my 

transatlantic brethren, it unluckily happens, 

that the older I grow, and the more unfit for 

mental exertion, the more it is required. I 

published, the last spring, the Altrive Tales, 

and in summer, the Queer Book. If the 

latter has not yet found its way to any of the 

presses of the States, it might be of some 

value to you, as all my best ballads, both 

humorous and pathetic, are included ; but 
10 



110 SKETCH OF THE 

a few of them have appeared in Black- 
wood. 

" I am, likewise, engaged to commence a 
series of tales in November, which will run 
from ten to twelve volumes. Fop though I 
was a poor shepherd more than half a cen- 
tury ago, I have still got no farther than a 
poor shepherd to this day." 

The same letter contained a proposition to 
transfer the copy-right of all his English pub- 
lications, as they came out. But this, by the 
copy-right law of the United States, was im- 
practicable. Our laws have hitherto shut 
out the productions of foreign writers from a 
participation with our own in the advantages 
of American publication. And although it 
was thus, probably, intended to place the pro- 
duct of the brain on the same footing with 
that of the hand, the necessities were dis- 



shepherd's Life. Ill 

similar. In mechanical inventions the En- 
glish had the advantage, and in that, protec- 
tion placed us somewhat nearer in the com- 
mon results. But in the products of the brain, 
natural talent and native genius were fully 
able to take care of themselves, under ordi- 
nary competition. 

Mr. Hogg was, of course, informed of the 
difficulties in the way, in consequence of the 
discrimination by our law between the pro- 
ductions of foreigners and native citizens. 

A letter was subsequently received from 
him, and with it came the manuscript of the 
Familiar Anecdotes. 

If we are not mistaken, they were in- 
tended for the personal examination of Sir 
Walter Scott's son-in-law, Mr. Lockhart, 
who has announced a forthcoming Life of 
the Author of Waverley. Whether this 



112 SKETCH OF THE 

gentleman considered the Anecdotes an in- 
terference with his own work, or as being of 
too familiar a cast, we do not know, but they 
were withdrawn by the Shepherd, and imme- 
diately transmitted to America. 

The letter authorizing their publication 
here, contained these words : — " They are, 
therefore, wholly yours ; unappropriated, and 
your own. Publish them in what shape or 
form, or in as many shapes and forms as 
you like." 

The Editor, in accepting them as unre- 
servedly as they were bestowed, did so with 
the hope of turning their publication to the 
account of the Author. It was deemed 
advisable to prefix to them a short notice of 
the Shepherd, imperfect though it be, both 
as a just tribute to his extraordinary talent r 
and as an instructive lesson to those who 



shepherd's life. 



113 



possess the gifts of nature, unassisted by birth 
and education. 

Sir Walter Scott has elaborately attempt- 
ed to show, that his birth and family, of 
themselves, entitled him to the favourable no- 
tice of the world, and, in tracing back his 
pedigree to the Scotts of Harden, furnished, 
as he imagined, conclusive testimony of his 
claims. In this, we imagine, he has shown 
a slight weakness of character, since, if we 
take from him his reputation as the author of 
the most admirable romances in the English 
language, we strip him of those qualities 
which have made him the admiration of 
mankind. 

The Shepherd has, in no instance, dis- 
covered a disposition to make any other 
pretensions to public favour than those which 

become the most unpretending of the pas- 
10* 



114 SKETCH OF THE 

toral race. His name, it is true, belongs to 
a poet of early date, whose muse is not 
without merit and whose memory is pre- 
served in the annals of Scotland. But he 
relies solely on his actual position, for the 
good-will of the literary world, and by his 
contributions to letters, he is willing- to stand 
or fall. 

Merit like his, however reluctantly it 
may have been welcomed into the ranks of 
the Aristocracy of England, will be hailed 
with sincere pleasure in our Republic. He 
has passed the period of probation. It is not 
in the power of criticism, however able, to 
destroy the lustre of his well-deserved fame. 

In his delineations of Sir Walter Scott, 
he has been influenced by the love of truth, 
the partiality of admiration, the frankness of 
friendship. He has observed much of that 



shepherd's life. 115 

great man, which was not visible to less 
familiar eyes. The Author of Waverley, — 
in his library, with its carved ceiling, its 
twenty thousand volumes, and its tall silver 
urn filled with the bones of Grecian heroes, — 
seemed like the Guardian Genius of Anti- 
quity ; and his visitors approached him with 
veneration. The poet of Ettrick saw him 
as the poet of Abbotsford, and to one who 
worships in the temple of nature, all other 
worshippers there, seem but human. It is 
in this point of view, it strikes us, that Mr. 
Hogg has described Sir Walter Scott, and he 
enables us to see him in a more natural and 
pleasing form, or at least one that more allies 
him to men in general, than we have hither- 
to been able to do. 

The Shepherd is an extraordinary man. 
" Endowed by nature with a rich and lively 



116 SKETCH OF THE 

imagination, a heart full of the finest sensi- 
bilities, and an understanding at once acute 
and profound, and having lived for many 
years the most poetical of lives in one of the 
most poetical of regions, it is no wonder that 
he should have become a deep and graceful 
poet of pastoral existence." 

Energetic, imaginative, and bold, his 
compositions are full of originality and 
power. Mr. Cunningham, in his recent 
History of the Literature of the last Fifty 
Years, places him below Burns in "pas- 
sionate ecstacy." This may be owing to the 
difference in their nervous temperaments. 
Both poets came from the humblest walks in 
life, both have been ardent lovers of the 
female character, but the Ettrick Shepherd 
while he had the canopy of Heaven above 



shepherd's life. 117 

him, seems never to have coveted any other 
shelter. 

Fond of rural sports, athletic in his 
frame, a good bowman, an unerring shot, a 
keen angler, he has felt himself independent, 
while " the world was all before him where to 
choose." 

Burns, on the contrary, was happiest 
when others guided his path, or led him 
onward in the hope of patronage. When his 
friends deserted him, his own courage proved 
traitorous, and he died, " before his time," of 
a broken heart." 

Mr. Hogg scarcely knows what despon- 
dency has been. When badly treated, he has 
forgiven his enemy, or laid about him indig- 
nantly with his quarter-staff. If he fails in 
his attempts he straightway tries his for- 
tune again. With his friends, he is gay. 



118 SKETCH OF THE 

frank, hospitable. To him, nothing comes 
amiss. The crack of his gun is heard, ever 
and anon, upon the Yarrow side. The play 
of his rod ripples the surface of St. Mary's 
Loch. In his library, he sits down to study 
with a cheerful heart, in his parlour he is the 
soul of kindness to his affectionate wife, the 
fondest of parents to his " sonsie bairns." 
He is truly the " Chief of the Peasant School 
of Poets," and as long as the language of 
nature is kindred to human hearts, his works 
will be the subject of constant admiration . 



FAMILIAR ANECDOTES 



SIR WALTER SCOTT 



BY JAMES HOGG 



THE ETTRICK SHEPHERD. 



FAMILIAR ANECDOTES 



In the following miscellaneous narrative. 
I do not pretend to give a life of my illus- 
trious and regretted friend. That has been 
done by half-a-dozen already, and will be 
given by his son-in-law fully and clearly — the 
only man who is thoroughly qualified for the 
task, and is in possession of the necessary 
documents. The whole that I presume to 
do, is, after an intimate acquaintance of thirty 
years, to give a few simple and personal 

anecdotes, which no man can give but my- 
11 



122 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

self. It is well known what Sir Walter was 
in his study, but these are to show what he 
was in the parlour, in his family, and among 
his acquaintances ; and, in giving them, I 
shall in nothing extenuate, or set down aught 
through partiality, and as for malice, that is 
out of the question. 

The first time I ever saw Sir Walter was 
one fine day in the summer of 1801. I was 
busily engaged working in the field at Ettrick- 
house, when old Wat Shiel came posting 
over the water to me and told me that I boud 
to gang away down to the Ramsey-cleuch as 
fast as my feet could carry me, for there were 
some gentlemen there who wanted to see me 
directly. 

" Wha can be at the Ramsey-cleuch that 
want to see me, Wat." 

" I coudna say, for it wasna me they 



r SIR WALTER SCOTT. 123 

spake to i' the bygangin', but I'm thinking 
it's the Shirra an' some o' his gang." 

" I was rejoiced to hear this, for I had 
seen the first volumes of the " Minstrelsy of 
the Border," and had copied a number of 
ballads from my mother's recital, or chaunt 
rather, and sent them to the editor prepara- 
tory to the publication of a third volume. I 
accordingly flung down my hoe and hasted 
away home to put on my Sunday clothes, but 
before reaching it I met the Shirra and 
Mr. William Laidlaw, coming to visit me. 
They alighted, and remained in our cottage 
a considerable time, perhaps, nearly two 
hours, and we were friends on the very first 
exchange of sentiments. It could not be 
otherwise, for Scott had no duplicity about 
him, he always said as he thought. My 
mother chaunted the ballad of Old Maitlan' 



124 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

to him, with which he was highly delighted, 
and asked her if she thought it ever had 
been in print ? And her answer was, " O 
na, na, sir, it never was printed i' the world, 
for my brothers an' me learned it an' many 
mae frae auld Andrew Moor, and he learned 
it frae auld Baby Mettlin, wha was house- 
keeper to the first laird of Tushilaw. She 
was said to hae been another nor a gude 
ane, an' there are many queer stories about 
hersel', but O, she had been a grand singer 
o' auld songs an' ballads." 

H The first laird of Tushilaw, Margaret?" 
said he, " then that must be a very old story 
indeed ? " 

" Ay, it is that, sir ! It is an auld story ! 
But mair nor that, excepting George Warton 
an' James Stewart, there war never ane o' 
my sangs prentit till ye prentit them yourseP, 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 125 

an' ye hae spoilt them awthegither. They 
were made for singing an' no for reading ; 
but ye hae broken the charm now, an' they'll 
never be sung mair. An' the worst thing of 
a', they're nouther right spell'd nor right 
setten down." 

"Take ye that, Mr. Scott," said Laid- 
law. 

Scott answered with a hearty laugh, and 

the quotation of a stanza from Wordsworth, 

on which my mother gave him a hearty rap 

on the knee with her open hand, and said, 

" Ye'll find, however, that it is a' true that 

I'm tellin' ye." My mother has been too 

true a prophetess, for from that day to this, 

these songs, which were the amusement of 

every winter evening, have never been sung 

more. 

We were all to dine at Ramsey-cleuch 
11* 



126 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

with the Messrs. Brydon, but Scott and Laid- 
law went away to look at some monuments 
in Ettrick church-yard, and some other old 
thing, I have forgot what, and I was to fol- 
low. On going into the stable-yard at Ram- 
sey-cleuch I met with Mr. Scott's groom, a 
greater original than his master, at whom I 
asked if the Shirr a was come ? 

" Oo ay, lad, the Shirra's come," said he.. 
" Are ye the chap that mak's the auld bal- 
lads, an' sings them sae weel ? " 

I said, I fancied 1 was he that he meant, 
though I could not say that I had ever made 
ony very auld ballads. 

" Ay, then, lad, gang your ways into the 
house, and speir for the Shirra. They'll let 
ye see where he is, an' he'll be very glad to 
see ye, that I'll assure ye o'." 

During the sociality of the evening, the 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 127 

discourse ran very much on the different 
breeds of sheep, that everlasting drawback on 
the community of Ettrick Forest. The ori- 
ginal black-faced forest breed being always 
denominated the short sheep, and the Che- 
viot breed the long sheep. The disputes at 
that time ran very high about the practicable 
profits of each. Mr. Scott, who had come into 
that remote district to visit a bard of Nature's 
own making and preserve what little fragments 
remained of the country's legendary lore, felt 
himself rather bored with the everlasting 
question of the long and short sheep. So, 
at length, putting on his most serious calcu- 
lating face, he turned to Mr. Walter Brydon, 
and said, "I am rather at a loss regarding 
the merits of this very important question. 
How long must a sheep actually measure to- 



128 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

come under the denomination of a long 
sheep ? " 

Mr. Brydon, who, in the simplicity of his 
heart, neither perceived the quiz nor the re- 
proof, fell to answer with great sincerity, "It's 
the woo', sir ; it's the woo' that mak's the 
difference, the lang sheep hae the short woo' 
an' the short sheep hae the lang thing, an' 
these are just kind o' names we gie them, ye 
see." 

Laidlaw got up a great guffaw, on which 
Scott could not preserve his face of strict cal- 
culation any longer ; it went gradually awry, 
and a hearty laugh followed. When I saw 
the very same words repeated near the begin- 
ning of the Black Dwarf, how could I be mis- 
taken of the author? It is true that Johnie Bal- 
lantyne swore me into a nominal acquiescence 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 129 

to the contrary for several years, but in my 
own mind I could never get the better of that 
and several other similar coincidences. 

The next day we went off, five in number, 
to visit the wilds of Rankleburn, to see if, on 
the farms of Buccleuch and Mount Comyn, 
the original possession of the Scotts, there 
were any relics of antiquity which could 
mark out the original residence of the chiefs 
whose distinction it was to become the pro- 
prietors of the greater part of the border 
districts. We found no remains of either 
tower or fortalice, save an old chapel and 
church-yard, and the remnants of a kiln-mill 
and mill-dam, where corn never grew, but 
where, as old Satchells very appropriately 
says : 

"Had heather bells been corn o' the best, 
The Buccleuch mill would have had a noble grist," 



130 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

It must have been used for grinding the 
chiefs black mails, which it is well known 
were all paid to him in kind ; and an im- 
mense deal of victual is still paid to him in 
the same way, the origin of which no man 
knows. 

Besides having been mentioned by Sat- 
chells, the most fabulous historian that ever 
wrote, there was a remaining tradition in the 
country that there was a font-stone of blue 
marble, out of which the ancient heirs of 
Buccleuch were baptized, covered up among 
the ruins of the old church. Mr. Scott was 
curious to see if we could discover it, but on 
going among the ruins where the altar was 
known to have been, we found the rubbish 
at that spot dug out to the foundation, we 
knew not by whom, but it was manifest 
that the font had either been taken away, or 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 131 

that there was none there. I never heard 
since that it had ever been discovered by any 
one. 

As there appeared, however, to have been 
a sort of recess in the eastern gable, we fell 
a turning over some loose stones, to see if the 
baptismal font was not there, when we came 
to one- half of a small pot encrusted thick 
with rust. Mr. Scott's eyes brightened and 
he swore it was part of an ancient consecrated 
helmet. Laidlaw, however, fell a picking 
and scratching with great patience until at 
last he came to a layer of pitch inside, and 
then, with a malicious sneer, he said, " The 
truth is, Mr. Scott, it's nouther mair nor less 
than an auld tar-pot, that some of the far- 
mers hae been buisting their sheep out o' i' 
the kirk lang syne." Sir Walter's shaggy 
eye-brows dipped deep over his eyes, and, 



132 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

suppressing a smile, he turned and strode 
away as fast as he could, saying, that " we 
had just rode all the way to see that there 
was nothing to be seen." 

He was, at that time, a capital horseman, 
and was riding on a terribly high-spirited 
grey nag, which had the perilous fancy of 
leaping every drain, rivulet, and ditch that 
came in our way. The consequence was, 
that he was everlastingly bogging himself, 
while sometimes the rider kept his seat in spite 
of the animals' plunging, and at other times 
he was obliged to extricate himself the best 
way he could. In coming through a place 
called the Milsey Bog, I said to him, " Mr. 
Scott, that's the maddest de'il of a beast I 
ever saw. Can you no gar him tak' a wee 
mair time ? he's just out o' ae lair intil ano- 
ther wi' ye." 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 



"Ay," said he, " he and I have been very 
often like the Pechs (Picts) these two days 
past, we could stand straight up and tie the 
latchets of our shoes." I did not understand 
the allusion, nor do I yet, but those were his 
words. 

We visited the old castles of Tushilaw 
and Thirlstane, dined and spent the after- 
noon and the night with Mr. Brydon of 
Crosslee. Sir Walter was all the while in 
the highest good humour, and seemed to en- 
joy the range of mountain solitude which we 
traversed, exceedingly. Indeed, I never saw 
him otherwise in the fields. On the rugged 
mountains, and even toiling in the Tweed to 
the waist, I have seen his glee surpass that 
of all other men. His memory, or, perhaps 
I should say, his recollection, was so capa- 
cious, so sterling, and minute, that a descrip- 
12 



134 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

tion of what I have witnessed regarding it 
would not gain credit. When in Edinburgh, 
and even at Abbotsford, I was often obliged 
to apply to him for references in my 
historical tales, that so I might relate nothing 
of noblemen and gentlemen named that was 
not strictly true. I never found him at fault. 
In that great library, he not only went uni- 
formly straight to the book, but ere ever he 
stirred from the spot, turned up the page 
which contained the information I wanted. 
I saw a pleasant instance of this retentiveness 
of memory recorded lately of him, regarding 
Campbell's Pleasures of Hope, but I 
think I can relate a* more extraordinary one. 
He, and Skene of Rubislaw, and I were 
out one night about midnight, leistering 
kippers in Tweed, about the end of January, 
not long after the opening of the river for 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 135 

fishing, which was then on the tenth, and 
Scott having a great range of the river him- 
self, we went up to the side of the Rough 
haugh of Elibank ; but when we came to 
kindle our light, behold our peat was gone 
out. This was a terrible disappointment, 
but to think of giving up our sport was out 
of the question, so we had no other shift save 
to send Rob Fletcher all the way through 
the darkness, the distance of two miles, for 
another fiery peat. 

The night was mild, calm, and as dark 
as pitch, and while Fletcher was absent we 
three sat down on the brink of the river, on 
a little green sward which I never will forget, 
and Scott desired me to sing them my ballad 
of " Gilman's-cleuch." Now, be it remem- 
bered, that this ballad had never been printed, 
I had merely composed it by rote, and, on 



136 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

finishing it three years before, had sung it 
once over to Sir Walter. I began it, at his 
request, but at the eighth or ninth stanza I 
stuck in it, and could not get on with another 
verse, on which he began it again and recited 
it every word from beginning to end. It 
being a very long ballad, consisting of eighty- 
eight stanzas, I testified my astonishment, 
knowing that he had never heard it but 
once, and even then did not appear to be 
paying particular attention. He said he had 
been out with a pleasure party as far as the 
opening of the Frith of Forth, and, to amuse 
the company, he had recited both that ballad 
and one of Southey's, (The Abbot of Aber- 
brothock,) both of which ballads he had only 
heard once from their respective authors, 
and he believed he recited them both without 
misplacing a word. 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 



137 



Rob Fletcher came at last, and old Mr. 
Laidlaw of the Peel with him, carrying a lan- 
tern, and into the river we plunged in a frail 
bark which had suffered some deadly damage 
in bringing up. We had a fine blazing light, 
and the salmon began to appear in plenty, 
" turning up sides like swine ; " but wo be 
to us, our boat began instantly to manifest a 
disposition to sink, and in a few minutes we 
reached Gleddie's Weal, the deepest pool in 
all that part of Tweed. When Scott saw 
the terror that his neighbour old Peel was in, 
he laughed till the tears blinded his eyes. 
Always the more mischief the better sport for 
him. " For God's sake, push her to the 
side ! " roared Peel. " Oh, she goes fine," 
said Scott. 



" ' An' gin the boat war bottomless, 
An' seven miles to row.' " 

12* 



138 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

A verse of an old song ; and during the 
very time he was reciting these lines, down 
went the boat to the bottom, plunging us all 
into Tweed, over head and ears. It was no 
sport to me, at all, for I had no change of rai- 
ment at Ashiesteel, but that was a glorious 
night for Scott, and the next day was no 
worse. 

I remember leaving my own cottage 
here one morning with him, accompanied by 
my dear friend. William Laidlaw, and Sir 
Adam Ferguson, to visit the tremendous 
solitudes of Loch-Skene and the Grey-mare's- 
tail. I conducted them through that wild 
region by a path, which, if not rode by 
Clavers, as reported; never was rode by 
another gentleman. Sir Adam rode inad- 
vertantly into a gulf and got a sad fright, 
but Sir Walter, in the very worst path?, 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 139 

never dismounted, save at Loch-Skene to 
take some dinner. We went to Moffat that 
night, where we met with Lady Scott and 
Sophia, and such a day and night of glee I 
never witnessed. Our very perils were to 
him matter of infinite merriment; and then 
there was a short tempered boot-boy at the 
mn, who wanted to pick a quarrel with him 
for some of his sharp retorts, at which Scott 
laughed till the water ran over his cheeks. 

I was disappointed in never seeing some 
incident in his subsequent works laid in 
a scene resembling the rugged solitude 
around Loch-Skene, for I never saw him sur- 
vey any with so much attention. A single 
serious look at a scene generally filled his 
mind with it, and he seldom took another. 
But, here, he took the names of all the hilis, 
their altitudes, and relative situations with re- 



140 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

gard to one another, and made me repeat all 
these several times. Such a scene may occur 
in some of his works which I have not seen, 
and I think it will, for he has rarely ever 
been known to interest himself either in a 
scene or a character, which did not appear 
afterwards in all its most striking- pecu- 
liarities. 

There are not above three people now 
living, who, I think, knew Sir Walter better 
and who understood his character better than 
I did, and I once declared that if I out- 
lived him, I should draw a mental and 
familiar portrait of him, the likeness of 
which to the original could not be dis- 
puted. In the meantime, this is only a 
reminiscence, in my own homely way, of 
an illustrious friend among the mountains. 
That revered friend is now gone, and the 



I 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 141 

following pages are all that I deem my- 
self at liberty to publish concerning him. 

The enthusiasm with which he recited 
and spoke of our ancient ballads, during that 
first tour through the Forest, inspired me 
with a determination immediately to begin 
and imitate them, which I did, and soon 
grew tolerably good at it. I dedicated " The 
Mountain Bard," to him : 

Bless'd be his generous heart, for aye, 
He told me where the relic lay, 
Pointed my -way with ready will, 
Afar on Ettrick's wildest hill ; 
Watch'd my first notes with curious eye ? 
And wonder'd at my minstrelsy : 
He little ween'd a parent's tongue 
Such strains had o'er my cradle sung. 

The only foible I ever could discover in 
the character of Sir Walter, was a too strong 



142 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

leaning to the old aristocracy of the country. 
His devotion for titled rank was prodigious, 
and, in such an illustrious character, alto- 
gether out of place. It amounted almost 
to adoration, and, not to mention the nu- 
merous nobility whom I have met at his own 
house and in his company, I shall give a few 
instances of that sort of feeling in him to 
which I allude. 

Although he, of course, acknowledged 
Buccleuch as the head and chief of the whole 
clan of Scott, yet he always acknowledged 
Harden as his immediate chieftain, and head 
of that powerful and numerous sept of the 
name, and Sir Walter was wont often to 
relate, how he, and his father before him, 
and his grandfather before that, always kept 
their Christmas with Harden in acknow- 
ledgment of their vassalage. This he used 



SIR WALTER SOOTT. 143 

to tell with a degree of exultation, which I 
always thought must have been astounding 
to every one who heard it ; as if his illustrious 
name did not throw a blaze of glory on the 
house of Harden a hundred times more than 
that van of old border barbarians, however 
brave, could throw over him. 

He was, likewise, descended from the 
chiefs of Haliburton and Rutherford, on the 
maternal side, and to the circumstance of his 
descent from these three houses he adverted 
so often, mingling their arms in his es- 
cutcheon, that to me, alas ! who, to this day 
could never be brought to discover any dis- 
tinction in ranks, save what was constituted 
by talents or moral worth, it appeared per- 
fectly ludicrous, thinking, as no man could 
help thinking, of the halo which his genius 



144 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

shed over those families, while he only valued 
himself as a descendant of theirs. 

I may mention one other instance, at 
which I was both pleased and mortified. 
We chanced to meet at a great festival at 
Bowhill, when Duke Charles was living and 
in good health. The company being very 
numerous, there were two tables set in the 
dining-room, one along and one across. 
They were nearly of the same length, but 
at the one along the middle of the room 
all the ladies were seated mixed alternately 
with gentlemen, and at this table all were 
noble, save, if I remember aright, Sir Adam 
Ferguson, whose everlasting good humour 
insures him a passport into every company. 
But I, having had some chat with the ladies 
before dinner, and always rather a flattered 
pet with them, imagined they could not pos- 



SIR WALTER SCOTTl 145 

sibly live without me, and placed myself 
among them. But I had a friend at the 
cross table, at the head of the room, who saw 
better. Sir Walter, who presided there, arose 
and addressing the Duke of Buccleuch, re- 
quested of him, as a particular favour and 
obligation, that he would allow Mr. Hogg to 
come to his table, for that, in fact, he could 
not do without him ; and, moreover, he 
added, 

If ye reave the Hoggs o' Fauldshope, 
Ye hurry Harden's gear. 

I, of course, got permission, and retired to 
Sir Walter's table, when he placed me on the 
right hand of the gentleman on his right 
hand, who, of course, was Scott of Harden. 
And yet, notwithstanding the broad insinua- 
tion about the Hoggs of Fauldshope, I sat 
13 



146 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

beside that esteemed gentleman the whole 
night, and all the while took him for an 
English clergyman ! I knew there were 
some two or three clergymen of rank there, 
connected with the family, and I took 
Harden for one of them ; and though I was 
mistaken, I still say, he ought to have been 
one. I was dumb-foundered next day, when 
the Duke told me, that my divine whom I 
thought so much of, was Scott of Harden, 
for I would have liked so well to have talked 
with him about old matters, my forefathers 
having been vassals under that house, on the 
lands of Fauldshope, for more than two cen- 
turies, and were only obliged to change mas- 
ters with the change of proprietors. It was 
doubtless owing to this connection, that my 
father had instilled into my youthful mind so 
many traditions relating to the house of 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 147 

Harden, of which I have made considerable 
use. 

But the anecdote which I intended to 
relate, before my ruling passion of egotism 
came across me, was this. When the dinner 
came to be served, Sir Walter refused to let 
a dish be set on our table, which had not 
been first presented to the Duke and the 
nobility. " No, no ! " said he. " This is 
literally a meeting of the Clan and its ad- 
herents, and we shall have one dinner in the 
feudal style, it may be but for once in our 
lives." 

As soon as the Duke perceived this 
whim, he admitted of it, although I believe 
the dishes were merely set down and lifted 
again. In the meantime, the venison and 
beef stood on the side-board, which was free 
to all, so that we were all alike busy from the 



148 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

beginning. At the end of our libations, and 
before we parted, some time in the course of 
the morning, the Duke set his one foot on 
the table and the other on his chair, request- 
ing us all to do the same, with which every 
man complied, and in that position he sung, 
" Johnie Cope, are ye wauking yet ? " while 
all joined in the chorus. Sir Walter set his 
weak foot on the table and kept his position 
steadily, apparently more firm than when he 
stood on the floor, joining in the chorus 
with his straight-forward bass voice with 
great glee, enjoying the whole scene exceed- 
ingly, as he did every scene of hilarity that 
I ever saw. But though a more social com- 
panion never was born, he never filled him- 
self drunk. He took always his wine after 
dinner, and, at least for upwards of twenty 
years, a little gin toddy after supper, but he 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 149 

was uniformly moderate in eating and drink- 
ing. He liked a good breakfast, but often 
confessed that he never knew what a good 
breakfast was till he came to my cottage, 
but he should never want it again, and he 
kept steadily to his resolution. 

He was a most extraordinary being. 
How or when he composed his voluminous 
works, no man could tell. When in Edin- 
burgh, he was bound to the Parliament- 
house all the forenoon. He never was 
denied to any living, neither lady nor gentle- 
man, poor nor rich, and he never seemed dis- 
composed when intruded on, but always good- 
humoured and kind. Many a time have I 
been sorry for him, for I have remained in his 
study, in Castle-street, in hopes to get a quiet 
word of him, and witnessed the admission of 

ten intruders, foreby myself. Noblemen, 
13* 



150 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

gentlemen, painters, poets, and players, all 
crowded to Sir Walter, not to mention book- 
sellers and printers, who were never absent, 
but these spoke to him privately. When at 
Abbotsford, for a number of years his house 
was almost constantly filled with company, 
for there was a correspondence carried on, and 
always as one freight went away, another 
came. It was impossible not to be sorry for 
the time of such a man thus broken in 
upon. I felt it exceedingly, and once, when 
I went down by particular invitation to stay 
a fortnight, I had not the heart to stay any 
longer than three days, and that space was 
generally the length of my visits. But Sir 
Walter never was discomposed. He was 
ready, as soon as breakfast was over, to ac- 
company his guests wherever they chose to 
go, to stroll in the wood, or take a drive up to 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 151 

Yarrow, or down to Melrose or Dryburgh, 
where his revered ashes now repose. He 
was never out of humour when well, but 
when ill he was very cross, he being subject 
to a bilious complaint of the most dreadful 
and severe nature, accompanied by pangs the 
most excruciating, and when under the in- 
fluence of that malady it was not easy to 
speak to him, and I found it always the best 
plan to keep a due distance. But then his 
sufferings had been most intense, for he told 
me one day, when he was sitting as yellow 
as a primrose, that roasted salt had been pre- 
scribed to lay on the pit of his stomach, 
which was applied, and the next day it was 
discovered that his breast was all in a blister 
and the bosom of his shirt burnt to an izel, 
and yet he never felt it ! 

But to return to our feast at Bowhill, from 



152 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

which I have strangely wandered, although 
the best of the fun is yet to come. When 
the Duke retired to the drawing-room he de- 
puted Sir Alexander Don, who sat next him, 
to his chair. We had long before been all at 
one table. Sir Alexander instantly requested 
a bumper out of champaigne glasses to the 
Duke's health, with all the honours. It was 
instantly complied with, and every one drank 
it to the bottom. Don then proposed the fol- 
lowing of so good an example as his Grace 
had set us, and accordingly we were all 
obliged to mount our chairs again, and set- 
ting one foot on the table, sing Johnie Cope 
over again. Every one at least attempted it, 
and Sir Alexander sang the song in most 
capital style. The Scotts, and the Elliotts, 
and some Taits, now began to fall with terri- 
ble thuds on the floor, but Sir Walter still 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 153 

kept his station as steady as a rock, and 
laughed immoderately. But this was too 
good fun to be given up. The Marquis of 
Queensberry, who was acting as Croupier, 
said that such a loyal and social Border Clan 
could never separate without singing " God 
save the King," and that though we had 
drunk to his health at the beginning, we be- 
hoved to do it again and join in the anthem. 
We were obliged to mount our chairs again ; 
and in the same ticklish position, sing the 
King's Anthem. Down we went, one after 
another. Nay, they actually fell in heaps 
above each other. I fell off and took a prodi- 
gious run to one corner of the room, against 
which I fell, which created great merriment. 
There were not above six stood the test this 
time, out of from thirty to forty. Sir Walter 
did, and he took all the latter bumpers off to 



154 FAMILAR ANECDOTES OF 

the brim. He had a good head more ways 
than one. 

There was no man who ever testified 
more admiration, and even astonishment, 
than he did at my poetical productions, both 
songs and poems, and sometimes in very 
high terms before his most intimate friends. 
It was somewhat different with regard to my 
prose works, with which he uniformly found 
iault, and always with the disagreeable ad- 
junction, "how good they might have been 
made with a little pains." When The Three 
Perils of Man was first put to press, he 
requested to see the proof slips, Ballantyne 
having been telling him something about the 
work. They were sent to him on the 
instant, and on reading them he sent express- 
ly for me as he wanted to see me, and speak 
with me, about my forthcoming work. We 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 155 

being both at that time residing in Edin- 
burgh, I attended directly, and I think I re- 
member every word that passed. Indeed, so 
implicit was my dependance on his friend- 
ship, his good taste, and judgment, that I 
never forgot a sentence nor a word that he 
said to me about my own works, but treasur- 
ed them up in my heart. 

" Well, Mr. Hogg, I have read over your 
proofs with a great deal of pleasure, and, I 
confess with some little portion of dread. In 
the first place, the meeting of the two prin- 
cesses, at Castle Weiry is excellent. I have 
not seen any modern thing more truly dra- 
matic. The characters are all strongly 
marked, old Peter Chisholme's in particular. 
Ah ! man, what you might have made of 
that with a little more refinement, care, and 
patience ! But it is always the same with 



156 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

you, just hurrying on from one vagary to 
another, without consistency or proper ar- 
rangement." 

" Dear Mr. Scott, a man canna do the 
thing that he canna do." 

" Yes, but you can do it. Witness your 
poems, where the arrangements are all per- 
fect and complete; but in your prose works, 
with the exception of a few short tales, you 
seem to write merely by random, without 
once considering what you are going to 
write about." 

"You are not often wrong, Mr. Scott, and 
you were never righter in your life than you 
are now, for when I write the first line of a 
tale or novel, I know not what the second is 
to be, and it is the same way in every sen- 
tence throughout. When my tale is tra- 
ditionary, the work is easy, as I then see my 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 



157 



way before me, though the tradition be ever 
so short, but in all my prose works of imagi- 
nation, knowing little of the world, I sail on 
without star or compass." 

" I am sorry to say, that this is too often 
apparent. But, in the next place, and it was 
on that account I sent for you, do you not 
think there is some little danger in making 
Sir Walter Scott, of Buccleuch, the hero of 
this wild extravagant tale ? " 

" The devil a bit." 

" Well, I think differently. The present 

chief is your patron, your sincere friend, and 

your enthusiastic admirer. Would it not then 

be a subject of regret, not only to 3^ourself and 

me, but to all Scotland, should you, by any 

rash adventure, forfeit the countenance and 

friendship of so good and so great a man 'I " 

" There's nae part o' that at a', Mr. Scott. 
14 



158 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

The Sir Walter of my tale is a complete 
hero throughout and is never made to do a 
thing, or say a thing, of which his descen- 
dant our present chief wirma be proud." 

" I am not quite sure of that. Do you 
not think you have made him a rather too 
selfish character?" 

" O, ay, but ye ken they were a' a little 
gi'en that gate, else how could they hae 
gotten hand o' a' the south o' Scotland, nae- 
body kens how." 

Sir Walter then took to himself a hearty 
laugh, and then pronounced these very words. 
" Well, Hogg, you appear to me just now like 
a man dancing upon a rope or wire, at a great 
height; if he is successful and finishes his 
dance in safety, he has accomplished no 
great matter, but if he makes a slip he gets a 
devil of a fall." 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 



159 



"Never say another word about it, Mr. 
Scott, I'm satisfied ; the designation shall be 
changed throughout, before I either eat or 
sleep." And I kept my word. 

I went, when in Edinburgh, at his particu- 
lar request, two or three days every week, to 
breakfast with him, as I was then always sure 
of an hour's conversation with him, before he 
went to the Parliament house, and I often 
went for many days successively, as I soon 
found it was impossible to be in his company 
without gaining advantage. But there was 
one Sunday morning I found him in very bad 
humour indeed. He was sitting at his desk in 
his study at Castle-street, and when I went in 
he looked up to me with a visage as stern as 
that of a judge g;oing to pronounce sen- 
tence on a malefactor, and at the -same 
time, he neither rose nor saluted me, which 



I 



160 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

was always his wont, and the first words that 

he addressed to me were these, " Mr. Hogg, I 

am very angry with you, I tell you it plainly, 

and I think I have a right to be so. I de- 
ft 
mand, sir, an explanation of a sentence in 

your Spy of yesterday." 

Knowing perfectly well to what sentence 
he alluded, my peasant blood began to boil, 
and I found it rushing to my head and face 
most violently, as I judged myself by far 
the most aggrieved. " Then I must first de- 
mand an explanation from you, Mr. Scott," 
said I, " Were you the author of the article 
alluded to in my paper, which places you at 
the head, and me at the tail, nay, as the very 
dregs of all the poets of Britain ?" 

" What right had you, sir, to suppose that I 

was the author of it?" said he, in a perfect rage. 

" Nay, what right had you to suppose 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 161 

that you were the author of it, that you are 
taking it so keenly to yourself?" said I. 
" The truth is, that when I wrote the re- 
marks, I neither knew nor cared who was the 
author of the article alluded to ; but before 
the paper went to press, I believed it to 
have been Mr. Southey, for Johny Ballan- 
tyne told me so, and swore to it ; but if the 
feather suits your cap, you are perfectly 
welcome to it." 

" Very well, Hogg." said he, " that is 
spoken like a man, and like yourself; I am 
satisfied. I thought it was meant as personal 
to me in particular. But, never mind. We 
are friends again as usual. Sit down and we 
will go to our breakfast together immediately, 
and it shall never more be mentioned be- 
tween us." 

Mr. Southey long afterwards told me, 
14* 



162 FAMILIA.R ANECDOTES OF 

that he was not the author of that article^ 
and he believed it to have been written by 
Scott. If it was, it was rather too bad of 
him ; but he never said it was not his. It 
was a review of modern literature in the 
Edinburgh Annual Register. As some 
readers of these anecdotes may be curious to 
see the offensive passage in the Spy, I shall, 
here extract it ; that work being long ago 
extinct, and only occasionally mentioned by 
myself, as a parent will sometimes mention the 
name of a dear, unfortunate, lost child, who 
has been forgotten by all the world beside. 

" The papers which have given the 
greatest personal offence are those of Mr. 
Shuffleton, which popular clamour obliged the 
editor reluctantly to discontinue. Of all the 
poets and poetesses whose works are there 
emblematically introduced, one gentleman 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 



163 



alone stood the test, and his firmness was 
even by himself attributed to forgiveness. 
All the rest, male and female, tossed up their 
noses and pronounced the writer an ignorant 
and incorrigible barbarian. The Spy here- 
by acknowledges himself the author of these 
papers, and adheres to the figurative charac- 
ters he has there given of the poetical works 
of those authors. He knows, that, in a future 
edition, it is expected that they are all to be 
altered or obliterated. They never shall ! 
Though the entreaties of respected friends 
prevailed on him to relinquish a topic which 
was his favourite one, what he has published, 
he has published, and no private considera- 
tion shall induce him to an act of such mani- 
fest servility as that of making a renuncia- 
tion. Those who are so grossly ignorant as 
to suppose the figurative characteristics of the 



164 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

poetry, as having the smallest reference to the 
personal characters of the authors, are below 
reasoning with. And since it has of late 
become fashionable with some great poets, to 
give an estimate of their great powers in 
periodical works of distinction, surely others 
have an equal right to give likewise their esti- 
mates of the works of such bards. It is truly 
amusing to see how artfully a gentleman is 
placed at the head of a school of poetry, and 
one who is, perhaps, his superior at the tail of 
it. How he can make himself to appear as the 
oreatest genius that ever existed. With what 
address he can paint his failings as beauties, 
and depict his greatest excellencies as slight 
defects, finding fault only with those parts 
which every one must admire. The design 
is certainly an original, though not a very 
creditable one. Great authors cannot remain 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 165 

always concealed, let them be as cautious as 
they will ; the smallest incident often assist- 
ing curiosity in the discovery." — Spy for 
August 2Uh, 1811. 

This last sentence, supposing Sir Walter 
to have been the author, which I now suspect 
he was, certainly contained rather too broad 
and too insolent a charge to be passed over 
with impunity. When I wrote it. I believed 
he was, but had I continued to believe so, I 
would not have called on him the next morn- 
ing after the publication of the paper. 
Luckily, before putting the paper to press, I 
waited on Mr. John Ballantyne, and asked 
him who was the author of that insolent 
paper in his Annual Register, which placed 
me as the dregs of all the poets in Britain. 

" O, the paper was sent to our office by 
Southey," said he, u you know he is editor 



166 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

and part proprietor of the work, and we 
never think of objecting to any thing that 
he sends us. Neither my brother James, nor 
I, ever read the article until it was published, 
and we both thought it was a good one." 

Now this was a story, beside the truth, 
for I found out afterwards that Mr. James 
Ballantyne had read the paper from manu- 
script, in a library, long before its publication, 
where it was applauded in the highest terms. 
I, however, implicitly believed it, as I have 
done every body all my life. At that period, 
the whole of the aristocracy and literature of 
our country were set against me, and deter- 
mined to keep me down; nay, to crush me to 
a nonentity ; thanks be to God ! I have 
lived to see the sentiments of my country- 
men completely changed. 

There was once more, and only once, 






SIR WALTER SCOTT. 167 

that I found Sir Walter in the same quer- 
rulous humour with me. It was the day 
after the publication of my Brownie of 
Bodsbeck. I called on him after his return 
from the Parliament house, on pretence of 
asking his advice about some very important 
affair, but in fact, to hear his sentiments of 
my new work. His shaggy eye-brows were 
hanging very low down, a bad prelude, 
which I knew too well. " I have read 
through your new work, Mr. Hogg," said he. 
" and must tell you downright and plainly, 
as I always do, that I like it very ill— very ill 
indeed." 

"What for, Mr. Scott?" 

" Because it is a false and unfair picture 
of the times and the existing characters, 
altogether an exaggerated and unfair picture !" 



168 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

" I dinna ken, Mr. Scott. It is the pic- 
ture I have been bred up in the belief o' sin 5 
ever t was born, and I had it frae them 
whom I was most bound to honour and 
believe. An' mair nor that, there is not one 
single incident in the tale — not one — which I 
cannot prove from history, to be literally and 
positively true. I was obliged sometimes to 
change the situations to make one part 
coalesce with another, but in no one instance 
have I related a story of a cruelty or a 
murder which is not literally true. An' 
that's a great deal mair than you can say for 
your tale o' Auld Mortality." 

" You are overshooting the mark now, 
Mr. Hogg. I wish it were my tale. But it 
is not with regard to that, that I find fault 
with your tale at all, but merely because it 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 169 

is an unfair and partial picture of the age 
in which it is laid." 

" Na, I shouldna hae said it was your 
tale, for ye hae said to your best friends that 
it was not an' there I was wrang. Ye may 
hinder a man to speak, but ye canna hinder 
him to think, an' I can speak at the think- 
ing. But, whoever wrote Auld Mortality, 
kenning what I ken, an' what ye ken, I 
wadna wonder at you being ill-pleased with 
my tale, if ye thought it written as a counter- 
poise to that, but ye ken weel it was written 
lang afore the other was heard of." 

" Yes, I know that a part of it was in 
manuscript last year, but I suspect it has 
been greatly exaggerated since." 

" As I am an honest man, sir, there has 
not been a line altered or added, that I re- 
member of. The original copy was printed. 
15 



170 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

Mr. Blackwood was the only man, beside 
yourself, who saw it. He read it painfully, 
which I now know you did not, and I 
appeal to him." 

" Well, well. As to its running counter 
to Old Mortality, I have nothing to say. 
Nothing in the world. I only tell you, that 
with the exception of Old Nanny, the crop- 
eared Covenanter, who is by far the best 
character you ever drew in your life, I dis- 
like the tale exceedingly, and assure you it is 
a distorted, a prejudiced, and untrue picture 
of the Royal party." 

" It is a devilish deal truer than yours 
though, and on that ground I make my 
appeal to my country." 

And with that I rose and was going off 
in a great huff. 

u No, no ! stop ! " cried he, " you are 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 171 

not to go, and leave me again in bad 
humour. You ought not to be offended 
with me for telling you my mind freely." 

" Why, to be sure, it is the greatest folly 
in the world for me to be sae. But ane's 
beuks are like his bairns, he disna like to 
hear them spoken ill o', especially when he is 
conscious that they dinna deserve it." 

Sir Walter, then, after his customary 
short good-humoured laugh, repeated a pro- 
verb about the Gordons, which was exceed- 
ingly apropos to my feelings at the time, but, 
all that I can do, I cannot remember it, 
though I generally remembered every thing 
that he said of any import. He then added, 
" I wish you to take your dinner with me 
to-day. There will be nobody with us, but 
James Ballantyne, who will read you some- 
thing new, and I wanted to ask you particu- 



172 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

larly about something which has escaped me 
at this moment. Ay, it was this. Pray had 
you any tradition on which you founded that 
ridiculous story about the Hunt of Eildon 1 " 

" Yes, I had," said I, " as far as the two 
white hounds are concerned, and of the one 
pulling the poisoned cup twice out of the 
King's hand when it was at his lips." 

" That is very extraordinary," said he, 
" for the very first time I read it, it struck me 
I had heard something of the same nature 
before, but how or where I cannot compre- 
hend. I think it must have been when I 
was on the nurse's knee, or lying in the 
cradle, yet I was sure I had heard it. It is a 
very ridiculous story, that, Mr. Hogg. The 
most ridiculous of any modern story I 
ever read. What a pity it is that you are not 



SIR WALTER SOOTT. 173 

master of your own capabilities, for that tale 
might have been made a good one." 

It was always the same on the publication 
of any of my prose works. When The 
Three Perils of Man appeared, he read me 
a long lecture on my extravagance in 
Demonology, and assured me I had ruined 
one of the best tales in the world. It is 
manifest, however, that the tale had made no 
ordinary impression on him, as he subse- 
quently copied the whole of the main plot 
into his tale of Castle Dangerous. 

Sir Walter's conversation was always 
amusing, always interesting. There was a 
conciseness, a candour and judiciousness in it 
which never was equalled. His anecdotes 
were without end, and I am almost certain 
they were all made off-hand, for I never 

heard one of them either before or after. His 
15* 



174 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

were no Joe Miller's jokes. The only time 
ever his conversation was to me perfectly un- 
interesting, was with Mr. John Murray, of 
Albemarle-street, London. Their whole con- 
versation was about noblemen, parliamenters, 
and literary men of all grades, none of which 
I had ever heard of or cared about ; but every 
one of which Mr. Murray seemed to know, 
with all their characters, society, and propen- 
sities. This information Sir Walter seemed 
to drink in with as much zest as I did his 
whiskey toddy, and this conversation was 
carried on for two days and two nights, with 
the exception of a few sleeping hours ; and 
there I sat beside them, all the while, like a 
perfect stump ; a sheep who never got in a 
word, not even a bleat. I wish I had the 
same opportunity again. 

I first met with Sir Walter, at my own 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 



175 



cottage in the wilds of Ettrick Forest, as 
above narrated, and I then spent two days 
and two nights in his company. When we 
parted, he shook my hand most heartily. 
and invited me to his cottage on the banks 
of the North Esk, above Lasswade. " By 
all means come and see me," said he, " and 
I will there introduce you to my wife. She 
is a foreigner, as dark as a blackberry, and 
does not speak the broad Scots so well as 
you, and me, of course, I don't expect you to 
admire her much, but I shall assure you of 
a hearty welcome. 

I went and visited him the first time 1 
had occasion to be in Edinburgh, expecting 
to see Mrs. Scott, a kind of half black-a- 
moor, whom our SherrifT had married for a 
great deal of money. I knew nothing about 
her, and had never heard of her, save from 



176 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

his own description ; but the words, " as dark 
as a blackberry," had fixed her colour in- 
delibly on my mind. Judge of my astonish- 
ment when I was introduced to one of the 
most beautiful and handsome creatures, as 
Mrs. Scott, whom I had ever seen in my 
life. A brunette, certainly, with raven hair 
and large black eyes, but in my estimation 
a perfect beauty. I found her quite affable, 
and she spoke English very well, save that 
she put always the d for the th, and left the 
aspiratidn of the h out altogether. She call- 
ed me all her life, Mr. Og. I understood 
perfectly well what she said, but, for many 
years, I could not make her understand what 
I said ; she had frequently to ask an explana- 
tion from her husband, and I must say this 
of Lady Scott, though it was well known 
how jealous she was of the rank of Sir Wal- 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 177 

ter's visitors, yet I was all my life received 
with the same kindness as if I had been a 
relation or one of the family, although one 
of his most homely daily associates. But 
there were many others, both poets and play- 
actors, whom she received with no very 
pleasant countenance. Jeffrey and his sate- 
lites she could not endure, and there was 
none whom she disliked more than Brough- 
am, for what reason I do not know, but I 
have heard her misca' him terribly, as well as- 
" dat body Jeffrey." It might be owing to some 
reasons which I did not know about. After the 
review of Marmion appeared, she never would 
speak to Jeffrey again, for, though not a lady 
who possessed great depth of penetration, she 
knew how to appreciate the great powers of 
her lord, from the begiuning, and despised all 
those who ventured to depreciate them, 



178 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

I have heard Sir Walter, tell an anecdote of 
this review of Marmion. As he and Jeffrey, 
Southey, Curwin, and some other body, I 
have forgotten who, were sailing on Derwent 
water, at Keswick, in Cumberland, one fine 
day, Mr. Jeffrey, to amuse the party, took 
from his pocket the manuscript of the review 
of Marmion, and read it throughout. This, 
I think, was honest in Jeffrey, but the rest of 
the company were astonished at his insolence, 
and at some passages did not know where 
to look. When he had finished, he said, 
" Well, Scott, what think you it ? what shall 
be done about it." "At all events, I have 
taken my resolution what to do,'" said Scott, 
"I'll just sink, the boat." The review was 
a little modified after that. 

But to return to Lady Scott, she is cradled 
in my remembrance, and ever shall be as a 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 179 

sweet, kind and affectionate creature. When 
any of the cottagers or retainers about Ab- 
botsford grew ill, they durst not tell her, as 
it generally made her worse than the suffer- 
ers, and I have heard of her groaning, and 
occasionally weeping for a whole day and a 
good part of the night, for an old tailor who 
was dying, and leaving a small helpless fami- 
ly behind him. Her daughter Anne, was very 
like her, in the contour and expression of 
her countenance. Who was Lady Scott 
originally? I really wish anybody would tell 
me, for surely somebody must know. There 
is a veil of mystery hung over that dear 
lady's birth and parentage, which I have 
been unable to see through or lift up ; and 
there have been more lies told to me about 
it, and even published in all the papers of 
Britain, by those who ought to have known 



180 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

than ever was told about those of any 
woman that ever was born. I have, how- 
ever, a few cogent reasons for believing that 
the present Sir Walter's grandfather, was a 
nobleman of very high rank. 

Like other young authors, Sir Walter 
was rather vain of his early production!?, and 
liked to make them the subject of conversa- 
tion. He recited Glenfinlas one day to me 
on horseback, long before its publication. He 
read me also, the Lay of the Last Minstrel, 
from manuscript, at least, he and William 
Erskine, (Lord Kineder,) and James Ballan- 
tyne, read it, canto about. He always pre- 
ferred their readings to his own. Not so with 
me. I could always take both the poetry 
and the story along with me, better from 
his reading than any other body's whatso- 
ever. Even with his deep-toned bass voice, 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 181 

and his Berwick burr, he was a far better 
reader than he was sensible of. Every thing 
that he read was like his discourse, it always 
made an impression. He likewise read me 
Marmion before it was published, but I think 
it was then in the press, for a part of it, at 
least, was read from proof slips and sheets 
with corrections on the margin. The Mar- 
mion manuscript was a great curiosity. I 
wonder what became of it. It was all writ- 
ten off-hand, in post letters, from Ashiesteel, 
Mainsforth, Rokeby, and London. The 
readings of Marmion began on his own part, 
I had newly gone to Edinburgh, and knew 
nothing about the work —had never heard of 
it. But the next morning after my arrival, 
on going to breakfast with him, he sought 
out a proof sheet, and read me his descrip- 
tion of my beloved St. Mary's Lake, in one 
16 



182 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

of his introductions, I think to canto second, 
to ask my opinion, as he said, of its correct- 
ness, as he had never seen the scene but once. 
I said, there never was any thing more 
graphic written in this world ; and I still 
adhere to the assertion, so it was no flattery ; 
and I, being perfectly mad about poetry then, 
begged of him to let me hear the canto that 
followed that vivid description, expecting to 
hear something more about my native moun- 
tains. He was then, to humour me, obliged to 
begin at the beginning of the poem, and that 
day he read me the two first books. 

That night my friends Grieve and Mori- 
son, who were as great enthusiasts as my- 
self, expressed themselves so bitterly at my 
advantage over them, that the next morning 
I took them both with me, and they heard 
him read the two middle cantos, which I am 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 183 

sure neither of them will ever forget. When 
we came to the door, Morison said, "For 
God's sake, Hogg, don't ring." 

« What for," said I. 

" Because I know there will be something 
so terribly gruff about him, I dare not for my 
soul go in," said he. 

"You never were so far mistaken in your 
life," said I, " Sir Walter's manner is just 
kindness personified," and rung the bell. 

When the Lady of the Lake was mostly, 
or at least partly in manuscript, he said to 
me one evening, " I am going to adventure 
a poem on the public quite different from my 
two last, perfectly different in its theme, style, 
and measure." On which he took the 
manuscript from his desk, and read me the 
course of The Fiery Cross, and the Battle 
of the Trosachs. I said, "I could not per- 



184 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

ceive any difference at all between the style 
of that and his former poems, save that, be- 
cause it was quite new to me, I thought it 
rather better." He was not quite well pleas- 
ed with the remark, and was just saying, I 
would think differently when I had time to 
peruse the whole poem, when Sir John Hope 
came in, and I heard no more. 

After that, he never read anything more 
to me before publishing, save one ghost story. 
His fame became so firmly established that 
he cared not a fig for the opinions of his 
literary friends, before hand. But there was 
one forenoon he said to me in his study, I 
have never durst venture upon a real ghost 
story, Mr. Hogg, but you have published 
some such thrilling ones of late, that I have 
been this very day employed in writing one. 
I assure you, "it's no little that gars auld 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 185 

Donald pegh," but yon Lewis stories of yours 
frightened me so much, that I could not 
sleep, and now I have been trying my hand 
on one, and here it is. He read it ; but it 
did not make a great impression on me, for 
I do not know, at this moment, not having 
his works by me, where it is published. It 
was about the ghost of a lady, and, I think, 
appeared in the Abbot or Monastery. He 
read me also a humorous poem in manu- 
script, which has never been published that 
I know of. It was something about finding 
out the happiest man, and making him a 
present of a new holland shirt. Paddy got 
it, who had never known the good of a 
shirt. Mr. Scott asked me what I thought 
of it. I said, the characters of the various 
nations were exquisitely hit off, but I thought 

the winding-up was not so effective as it 
16* 



186 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

might have been made. He said he believed 
I was perfectly right. I never heard what 
became of that poem, or whether it was ever 
published or not, for living in the wilderness, 
as I have done, for the last twenty years, I 
know very little of what is going on in the 
literary world. One of Sir Walter's repre- 
sentatives has taken it upon him to assert, 
that Sir Walter always held me in the lowest 
contempt ! He never was farther wrong in 
his life, but Sir Walter would still have been 
farther wrong if he had done so. Of that, 
posterity will judge: but I assure that indi- 
vidual, that there never was a gentleman in 
the world, who paid more respect or attention 
to a friend, than Sir Walter did to me, for 
the space of the thirty years that we were 
acquainted. True, he sometimes found fault 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 187 

with me, but in that there was more kind- 
ness than all the rest. 

I must confess, that, before people of high 
rank, he did not much encourage my 
speeches and stories. He did not then hang 
down his brows, as when he was ill-pleased 
with me, but he raised them up and glower- 
ed, and put his upper lip far over the under 
one, seeming to be always terrified at what 
was to come out next, and then he generally 
cut me short, by some droll anecdote, to the 
same purport of what 1 was saying. In this 
he did not give me fair justice, for, in my 
own broad homely way, I am a very good 
speaker, and teller of a story too. 

Mrs. Hogg, was a favourite of his. He 
always paid the greatest deference and atten- 
tion to her. When we were married, I, of 
course, took her down to Abbots ford, and 



188 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

introduced her, and though the company was 
numerous, he did her the honour of leading 
her into the dining-room and placing her by 
his side. When the ladies retired, he, before 
all our mutual friends present, testified 
himself highly pleased with my choice, and 
added, that he wondered how I had the good 
sense and prudence to make such a one, " I 
dinna thank ye at a' for the compliment, Sir 
Walter," said I. 

As for her, poor woman, she perfectly 
adored him. There was one day, when he 
was dining with us at Mount Benger. on 
going away, he snatched up my little daugh- 
ter, Margaret Laidlaw, and kissed her. and 
then laying his hand on her head, said, 
' : God Almighty bless you, my dear child !" 
on which my wife burst into tears. On my 
coming back from seeing him into the car- 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 189 

riage, that stood at the base of the hill. I 
said, " What ailed you, Margaret ?" 

"0," said she, "I thought if he had but 
just done the same to them all, I do not know 
what in the world I would not have given !" 

There was another year previous to that, 
when he was dining with me at the same 
place, he rf took a great deal of notice of 
my only son, James, trying to find out 
what was in him, by a number of simple 
questions, not one of which James would 
answer. He then asked me anent the boy's 
capabilities. I said he was a very amiable 
and affectionate boy, but I was afraid he 
would never be the Cooper of Fogo, for he 
seemed to be blest with a very thick head. 
iC Why, but Mr. Hogg, you know, it is not 
fair to lay the saddle upon a foal," said he, "I, 
for my part, never liked precocity of genius all 



190 FAMILAR ANECDOTES OF 

my life, and can venture to predict, that 
James will yet turn out an honour to you 
and all your kin." I was gratified by the pre- 
diction, and lost not a word of it. 

The boy had at that time taken a par- 
ticular passion for knives, particularly for 
large ones, and to amuse him Sir Walter 
shewed him a very large gardener's knife, 
which he had in his pocket, which contained 
a saw, but I never regarded it, and would 
not have known it the next day. James, 
however, never forgot it, and never has to this 
day, and I should like very well, if that knife 
is still to be found, that James should have 
it as a keepsake of his father's warmest and 
most esteemed friend. Col. Ferguson, per- 
ceiving the boy's ruling passion, made him a 
present of a handsome, two-bladed knife. 
But that made no impression on James. Col 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 191 

Ferguson he forgot the next day, but Sir 
Walter he never forgot till he came back 
again, always denominating him, " The man 
wi' the gude knife." 

The last time Margaret saw him, was at 
his own house in Maitland-street, a very short 
time before he finally left it. We were pass- 
ing from Charlotte-square to make a call in 
Lawreston, when I said, "see, yon is Sir 
Walter's house, at yon red lamp." "O let 
me go in and see him once more ! " said 
she. 

"No, no, Margaret," said I, "you know 
how little time we have, and it would be 
too bad to intrude on his hours of quiet and 
study at this time of the day." " 0, but I 
must go in," said she, " and get a shake 
of his kind, honest hand once more. I can- 
not go by." So I, knowing that 



192 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

"Nought's to be won at woman's hand 
Unless ye gie her a' the plea," 

was obliged to comply. In we went, and 
were received with all the affection of old 
friends, but his whole discourse was addressed 
to my wife, while I was left to shift for my- 
self among books and newspapers. He talk- 
ed to her of our family, and of our prospects 
of being able to give them a good education, 
which he recommended at every risk, and 
at every sacrifice. He talked to her of his 
own family one by one, and of Mr. Lock- 
hart's family, giving her a melancholy ac- 
count of little Hugh John Lockhart, (the cele- 
brated Hugh Little- John,) who was a great 
favourite of his, but whom, as he said that 
day, he despaired of ever seeing reach man- 
hood. 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 



193 



The only exchange of words I got with 
him during that short visit, which did not 
extend to the space of an hour, was of a 
very important nature indeed. In order to 
attract his attention from my wife, to one, 
who, I thought, as well deserved it, I went 
close up to him with a scrutinizing look, 
and said, li Gudeness guide us, Sir Walter, 
but ye hae gotten a braw gown!" On 
which he laughed and said, "I got it made 
for me in Paris, (such a year,) when cer- 
tain great personages chose to call on me of 
a morning, and I never thought of putting 
it on since, until the day before yesterday 
on finding that my every-day one had been 
sent to Abbotsford. But I shall always think 
the more highly of my braw gown, Mr. 
Hogg, for your notice of it." I think it was 

made of black twilled satin and lined. 
17 



194 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

But to return to some general anecdotes 
with which I could fill volumes. When I 
first projected my literary paper, the spy, I 
went and consulted him, as I generally did 
in every thing regarding literature. He 
shook his head, and let fall his heavy eye- 
brows, but said nothing. The upper lip 
came particularly far down. I did not like 
these prognostics at all ; so I was obliged to 
broach the subject again, without having re- 
ceived one word in answer. 

" Do you not think it rather dangerous 
ground, to take after Addison, Johnson, and 
Henry M'Kenzie V said he. 

"No a bit ! " said I, "I'm no the least feared 
for that. My papers may not be sae yele- 
gant as theirs, but I expect to make them 
mair original." 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 195 

"Yes, they will certainly be original 
enough, with a vengeance ! " said he. 

I asked him if he thought three-pence 
would be a remunerating price? He an- 
swered. w4th very heavy brows, that, " taking 
the extent of the sale into proper calculation, 
he suspected she must be a fourpenny cut." 
He said this with a sneer which I never 
could forget. I asked him if he would lend 
me his assistance in it ? He said he would 
first see how I came on, and if he saw the 
least prospect of my success, he would sup- 
port me, and with this answer I was obliged 
to be content. He only sent me one letter 
for the work, enclosing two poems of Ley- 
dens. He was, however, right in discour- 
aging it, and I was wrong in adventuring it. 
I never knew him wrong in any of his calcu- 
lations or inhibitions but once, and then I am 



196 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

sure my countrymen will join with me in 
saying that he was wrong. He wrote to 
me once when I was living in Nithsdale, 
informing me that he was going to pur- 
chase the estate of Broad meadows, on Yar- 
row. That he was the highest offerer and 
was, he believed, sure of getting it, and that 
he had offered half and more on my account 
that I might be his chief Shepherd, and 
manager of all his rural affairs. The plan 
misgave. Mr. Boyd overbid him and became 
the purchaser, on which Sir Walter was so 
vexed on my account, I having kept myself 
out of a place, depending upon his, that he 
actually engaged me to Lord Porchester, as 
his chief Shepherd, where I was to have a 
handsome house, a good horse, a small pen- 
dicle, rent free, and twenty pounds a year. 
I approved of the conditions as more than I 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 197 

expected or was entitled to, only they were 
given with this proviso, that, " I was to put 
my poetical talent under lock and key for- 
ever ! " I have the letter. Does any body 
think Sir Walter was right there ? I can't 
believe it, and I am sure my friend the 
present Lord Porchester, would have been 
the last man to have exacted such a stipula- 
tion. I spurned the terms, and refused to 
implement the bargain. This is the circum- 
stance alluded to in the Q,ueen's Wake, as a 
reflection on Walter the Abbot, which I think 
it proper to copy here, to save researches for 
an extract, where it may be impossible to 
find it. It alludes to the magic harp of 
Ettrick banks, and Yarrow braes. 

"The day arrived, blest be the day; 
Walter the Abbot came that way, 

17* 



198 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

The sacred relic met his view, 

Ah ! well the pledge of heaven he knew ! 

He screwed the chords, he tried a strain, 

'Twas wild — he tuned and tried again. 

Then pour'd the numbers, bold and free,, 

The ancient magic melody. 

The land was charm'd to list his lays. 

It knew the harp of ancient days. 

The Border Chiefs, that long had been 

In sepulchres, unhearsed and green, 

Pass'd from their mouldy vaults away 

In armour red and stern array. 

And by their moonlight halls were seen, 

In vizor, helm, and habergeon. 

Even fairies sought our land again, 

So powerful was the magic strain. 

Blest be his generous heart, for ay, 
He told me where the relic lay, 
Pointed my way with ready will 
Afar on Ettrick's wildest hill; 
Watch'd my first notes with curious eye ? 
And wonder'd at my minstrelsy. 



' 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 199 

He little weened a parent's tongue 
Such strains had o'er my cradle sung ! 
O, could the bard I loved so long 
Reprove my fond aspiring song? 
Or could his tongue of candour say 
That I should throw my harp away ; 
Just when her notes began with skill 
To sound beneath the Southern hill, 
And twine around my bosom's core. 
How could we part for evermore ? 
'Twas kindness all, — I cannot blame, 
For bootless is the minstrel flame. 
But sure a bard might well have known 
Another's feelings by his own ! 

GIueen's Wake. 6th edit. p. 336-7. 

I never knew any gentleman so shy and 
chary of his name and interest as Sir Walter 
was, and though I know Allan Cunningham 
and Captain J. G. Burns will not join me in 
this. "Let every man roose the ford as he 



200 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

finds it." He never would do any thing for me 
in that, save by the honour of his undeviat- 
ing friendship and genuine good advices, both 
of which were of great value to me, insuring 
me a welcome among all the genteel com- 
pany of the kingdom, and the other tend- 
ing greatly to guide my path in a sphere 
with which I was entirely unacquainted, and 
these I set a high value on. But he would 
never bring me forward in any way but the 
shortest literary remark in any periodical. 
Never would review any of my works, al- 
though he once promised to do it. No, he 
did not promise ; he only said before several 
friends, to whom he had been speaking very 
highly of the work, that he was thinking of 
doing it. But seeing, I suppose, that the 
poem did not take so well as he had anti- 
cipated, he never accomplished his kind 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 201 

intent. I asked him, the following year, 
why he had not fulfilled his promise to me. 

" Why the truth is, Hogg," said he, 
" that I began the thing, and took a number 
of notes, marking extracts, but I found, that, 
to give a proper view of your poetical pro- 
gress and character, I was under the neces- 
sity of beginning with the ballads, and 
following through The Wake and all the 
rest, and, upon the whole, I felt that we 
were so much of the same school, that, if I 
had said of you as I wished to say, I would 
have been thought by the world to be ap- 
plauding myself." 

I cannot aver that these were Sir Wal- 
ter's very words, but they were precisely to 
that purport. But I, like other disappointed 
men, not being by half satisfied with the 
answer, said, " Dear Sir Walter, ye can never 



202 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

suppose that I belang to your school o' chi- 
valry ? Ye are the king o' that school, but 
I'm the king o' the mountain and fairy 
school, which is a far higher ane nor yours." 

He rather hung down his brows, and 
said, " The higher the attempt to ascend, the 
greater might be the fall ; " and changed the 
subject, by quoting the saying of some old 
English Baronet in a fox-chase. 

He paid two high compliments to me, 
without knowing of either, and although 
some other person should have related these 
rather than me, I cannot refrain from it. 
One of them was derogatory to himself too, 
a thing which a young poet is not very apt 
to publish. He was, he said, quarter-master 
to the Edinburgh gentlemen-cavalry, and 
composed a song for the corps,, got a friend to 
learn it and sing it at the mess, but it did 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 



203 



not take very well. At length a Mr. Robert- 
son got up and said, '•' Come, come, that's but 
a drool of a song. Let us have Donald 
M'Donald." On which Donald M'Donald 
was struck up, and was joined in with such 
glee that all the mess got up, joined hands, 
and danced round the table, and, added 
Scott, " I joined the ring too and danced as 
well as I could, and there were four chaps, 
all of the clan Donachie, who got so elevated 
that they got upon the top of the table and 
danced a highland reel to the song." He did 
not know it was mine until after he had 
told the anecdote, when I said, " Dear man, 
that sang's mine, and was written sax or 
seven years bygane. I wonder ye didna ken 
that." 

There was another day, as we were walk- 
ing round the north side of St. Andrew's 



204 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

Square, to call on Sir C. Sharpe in York 
Place, he said to me, laughing very heartily, 
" I found Ballantyne in a fine quandary yes- 
terday, as I called on leaving the Parliament- 
house. He was standing behind his desk, 
actually staring, and his mouth quite open. 
•I am glad you have come in, Mr. Scott,' said 
he, c to tell me if you think I am in my right 
senses, to-day, or that I am in a dream ? ' 
c O, it is quite manifest, from the question, 
that you are not in your right senses ! ' said 
I, { what is the matter ? ' f Here is a poem 
sent me by Mr. Gillies, to publish in a work 
of his,' said he, ' It is in his own hand- 
writing, and the gradation of the ascent is so 
regular and well-managed, that I am bound 
to believe it is his. Well, before, you came 
in, I read and read on, in these two proofs, 
until at last I said to myself, Good Lord, is 






SIR WALTER SCOTT. 205 

this the poetry of Mr. Gillies that I am read- 
ing ? I must be asleep and dreaming. And 
then I bit my little finger, to prove if I was 
not asleep, and I thought I was not. But 
sit down and judge for yourself.' 

" So James read the poem to me from be- 
ginning to end," continued he, " and then 
said, • Now, what think you of this?' ' The 
only thing that I can say,' said I, \ is, that the 
former part of the poem is very like the 
writing of a eunuch, and the latter part like 
that of a man. The style is altogether un- 
known to me, but Mr. Gillies' it cannot be."' 
I was sorry I durst not inform him it was 
mine, for it had been previously agreed be- 
tween Mr. Gillies and me, that no one should 
know. It was a blank verse poem, but I 
have entirely forgotten what it was about ; 

the latter half only was mine. 
18 



206 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

" ' So you say that the poetry is not the 
composition of Mr. Gillies V said James. 

" ' Yes, I do, positively. The thing is 
impossible.' 

" { Well, sir. I can take your word for 
that ; and I have not lost my senses, nor am 
I dreaming at all.' " 

There was one day that I met with him 
on the North Bridge, on his return from the 
Court of Session, when he took my arm, 
and said, " Come along with me, Hogg, 
I want to introduce you to a real brownie, 
one who does a great deal of work for me, for 
which I am paid rather liberally." I accom- 
panied him in one of the register offices, 
where a good-looking, little, spruce fellow, his 
deputy clerk, I suppose, produced papers, 
bunch after bunch, to the amount of some hun- 
dreds, all of which he signed with W. Scott, 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 207 

laughing and chatting with me all the while. 
We then took a walk round the Calton Hill, 
till dinner time, when I went home with 
him and met Ballantyne and Terry. I 
think it was on that day, for it was during a 
walk round the Calton Hill, and I never en- 
joyed that pleasure with him but twice in 
my life, that we were discussing the merits of 
his several poems. The Lady of the Lake 
had had an unprecedented run previous to 
that, and as it was really my favourite, I was 
extolling it highly, assured that I was going 
on safe ground, but I found that he preferred 
Marmion, and said something to the follow- 
ing effect, That the Lady of the Lake would 
always be the favourite with ladies and peo- 
ple who read merely for amusement, but that 
Marmion would have the preference by real 
judges of poetry. I have heard people of 



208 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

the first discernment express the same 
opinion since. For me, I think in the Lady 
of the Lake, he reached his acme in poetry : 
for, in fact, the whole both of his poetry 
and prose have always appeared to me, as 
two splendid arches, of which the Lady of 
the Lake is the key-stone of the one, and 
Guy Mannering and Old Mortality the joint 
key-stones of the other. I should like very 
well to write a review of his whole works, 
but that is quite out of my way at present. 

The only other walk that I ever got 
with him round the Calton Hill was several 
years subsequent to that. At that time I did 
not believe that he was the author of the cele- 
brated novels, for Johny Ballantyne had 
fairly sworn me out of my original fixed 
belief, so I began about them very freely, and 
he did the same, laughing heartily at some 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 209 

of the jokes, and often standing still and sit- 
ting down, and telling me where he thought 
the author had succeeded best and where 
least, and there were some places where he 
did not scruple to say he had failed altcn 
gether. He never tried to defend any pas- 
sage when it was attacked, but generally 
laughed at the remarks. 

There cannot be a better trait of Sir 
Walter's character than this, that all who 
knew him intimately, loved him ; nay, many 
of them almost worshipped him. The affec- 
tion and subservience of the two Messrs. 
Ballantyne far surpassed description. They 
were entrusted with all his secrets, and all 
his transactions, and faithful to the last, and 
I know, that had he taken some most serious 
advices which James gave him, he never 

would have been involved as he was. In 

18* 



210 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

James he always reposed the most implicit 
confidence. John he likewise trusted with 
every thing, and loved him as a wayward 
brother, but he often broke a joke at his ex- 
pense. There was one day, I was telling 
the Sherriff some great secret about the 
author of a certain work or article, I have 
quite forgot what it was, when he said, " I 
suspect you are widely misinformed there, 
Mr. Hogg, for I think I know the author to 
be a very different person." 

" Na, na, Mr. Scott, you are clean 
wrang," said I, "for Johny Ballantyne 
tauld me, an' he coudna but ken." 

"Ay, but ye should hae ascertained 
whether it was leeing Johny or true Johny 
who told you that, before you avouched it ; 
for they are two as different persons as exist 
on the face of the earth." said he. " Had 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 211 

James told you so, you might have averred 
it, for James never diverges from the right- 
forward truth." As Mr. Southey once told 
me the very same thing, I think I am at 
liberty to publish the sentiments of two such 
eminent men, of the amiable deceased. 
James was a man of pomp and circumstance, 
but he had a good and affectionate heart. It 
was too good and too kind for this world, and 
the loss first of his lady, and then of his 
great patron and friend, broke it, and he fol- 
lowed him instantly to the land of forgetful- 
ness. How strange it is that all connected 
with those celebrated novels have been 
hunted off the stage of time as it were to- 
gether ! The publisher, the author, the two 
printers, and, last of all, the corrector of the 
press, the honest and indefatigable Daniel 
M'Corkindale, — all gone ! and none to tell 



212 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

the secrets of that faithful and devoted little 
community. 

There was no man knew Scott so well 
as James Ballantyne, and I certainly never 
knew a man admire and revere a friend and 
patron so much. If any person ventured to 
compare other modern productions with those 
of Scott, he stared with astonishment, and 
took it as a personal insult to himself. There 
was one time, that, in my usual rash, for- 
ward way, I said, that Miss Ferrier's novels 
were better than Sir Walter's. James drew 
himself up ; I wish any reader of this had 
seen his looks of utter astonishment, for he 
was always a sort of actor, James, "What 
do I hear ? what do I hear ? " cried he, with 
prodigious emphasis, "is it possible that I 
hear, sir, such a sentiment drop from your 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 213 

lips?" I was obliged to burst out a-laughing 
and run away. 

Sir Walter's attached and devoted friends 
were without number, but William Erskine 
and James Ballantyne were his constant and 
daily associates. It is a pity that Ballantyne 
had not left a written character of him, for 
he could and would have done him justice. 
But the interesting part of their corres- 
pondence will soon all come to light in Lock- 
hart's life of his illustrious father-in-law. He 
was the only one I ever knew whom no 
man, either poor or rich, held at ill-will. 
I was the only exception myself, that ever 
came to my knowledge, but that was only 
for a short season, and all the while it never 
lessened his interest in my welfare. I found 
that he went uniformly on one system. If he 
could do good to any one, he would do it, but 



214 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

he would do harm to no man. He never 
resented a literary attack, however virulent, 
of which there were some at first, but always 
laughed at them. This showed a superiority 
of mind and greatness of soul which no other 
young author is capable of. He never retaliat- 
ed, but trusted to his genius to overcome all, 
and it was not on a bruised reed that he leaned. 
Although so shy of his name and literary 
assistance, which, indeed, he would not grant 
to any one, on any account, save to Lockhart, 
yet to poor men of literary merit, his purse- 
strings were always open, as far as it was in 
his power to assist them. I actually knew 
several unsuccessful authors who for years de- 
pended on his bounty for their daily bread. 
And then there was a delicacy in his way of do- 
ing it, which was quite admirable. He gave 
them some old papers or old ballads to copy 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 215 

for him, pretending to be greatly interested in 
them, for which he sent them a supply every 
week, making them believe that they were 
reaping the genuine fruit of their own 
labours. 

There was one day, when I was chatting 
with Ballantyne in his office, where I was 
generally a daily visitor, as well as my illus- 
trious friend, I chanced to say, that I never 
in my life knew a man like Scott, for that I 
knew to a certainty, he was at that time, 
feeling himself a successful author, lending 
pecuniary assistance to very many unsuccess- 
ful ones, and the best thing of all, he never 
let his left hand know, what his right hand 
was doing. 

Ballantyne's face glowed with delight and 
the tear stood in his eye, " You never were 
more right in your life," said he, " you never 



216 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

were more right in your life ! and I am glad 
that you know and so duly appreciate the 
merits of our noble, our invaluable friend. 
Look here," and with that he turned up his 
day-book, and added, " some word it seems 
had reached Scott, that Maturin, the Irish poet, 
was lying in prison for a small debt, and here 
have I, by Mr. Scott's orders, been obliged to 
transmit him a bill of exchange for sixty 
pounds, and Maturin is never to know from 
whom or whence it came." I have said it 
oft, and now say it again for the last time, 
that those who knew Scott only from the few 
hundreds, or I might say, hundreds of thou- 
sands of volumes to which he has given birth 
and circulation through the world, knew only 
one-half of the man and that not the best 
half either. As a friend, he was some- 
times stern, but always candid and sincere, 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 217 

and I always found his counsels of the high- 
est value, if I could have followed them. I 
was indebted to him for the most happy and 
splendid piece of humorous ballad poetry 
which I ever wrote. He said to me one day, 
after dinner, " It was but very lately, Mr. 
Hogg, that I was drawn by our friend Kirk- 
patrick Sharpe to note the merits of your bal- 
lad, The Witch of Fife. There never was 
such a thing written for genuine and ludi- 
crous humour, but why in the name of won- 
der did you suffer the gude auld man to be 
burnt skin and bone by the English at Car- 
lisle? (for, in the first and second editions, 
that was the issue.) I never saw a piece of 
such bad taste in all my life. What had the 
poor old carl done to deserve such a fate? 
Only taken a drappy o' drink too much, at 

another man's expense ; which you and I 
19 



218 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

have done often. It is a finale which I can- 
not bear, and you must bring off the old 
man, by some means or other, no matter 
how extravagant or ridiculous in such a 
ballad as yours ; but by all means bring off 
the fine old fellow, for the present termination 
of the ballad is one which I cannot brook." 
I went home, and certainly brought off the 
old man with flying colours, which is by far 
the best part of the ballad. I never adopted 
a suggestion of his, either in prose or verse, 
which did not improve the subject. He 
knew mankind well. He knew the way to 
the human heart, and he certainly had the 
art of leading the taste of an empire, I may 
say, of a world, above all men that ever 
existed. As long as Sir Walter Scott wrote 
poetry, there was neither man nor woman 
ever thought of either reading or writing any 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 219 

thing but poetry. But the instant that he 
gave over writing poetry, there was neither 
man nor woman ever read it more ! All 
turned to tales and novels, which I, among 
others, was reluctantly obliged to do. Yes, I. 
was obliged, from the tide, the irresistible 
current that followed him, to forego the talent 
which God had given me at my birth, and 
enter into a new sphere with which I had 
no acquaintance. The world of imagination 
had been opened wide to me, but the world 
of real life I knew nothing of. Sir Walter 
knew it, in all its shades and gradations, and 
could appreciate any singular character at 
once. He had a clear head, as well as a 
benevolent heart ; was a good man ; an 
anxiously kind husband ; an indulgent pa- 
rent ; and a sincere, forgiving friend ; a just 
judge, and a punctual correspondent. I be- 



220 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

lieve that he answered every letter sent to 
him, either from rich or poor, and generally 
not very shortly. Such is the man we have 
lost and such a man we shall never see 
again. He was truly an extraordinary man ; 
— the greatest man in the world. What are 
kings or emperors compared with him? 
Dust and sand ! And, unless when con- 
nected with literary men, the greater part of 
their names either not remembered at all, or 
only remembered with detestation. But here 
is a name, which, next to that of William 
Shakspeare, will descend with rapt admira- 
tion to all the ages of futurity. And is it not 
a proud boast for an old shepherd, that, for 
thirty years, he could call this man friend, 
and associate with him every day and hour 
that he chose ? 

Yes, it is my proudest boast. Sir Walter 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 221 

sought me out in the wilderness, and attach- 
ed himself to me before I had ever seen 
him, although I took cross fits with him, his 
interest in me never subsided for one day or 
one moment. He never scrupled to let me 
know that I behoved to depend entirely on 
myself for my success in life, but at the same 
time, always assured me that I had talents to 
ensure that success, if properly applied and 
not suffered to run to waste. I was always 
received in his house like a brother, and 
he visited me on the same familiar footing. 
I never went into the inner house of Parlia- 
ment, where he sat, on which he did not rise 
and come to me, and conduct me to a seat 
in some corner of the outer house, where he 
would sit with me two or three minutes. 
I am sorry to think that any of his relations 

should entertain an idea that Sir Walter un- 
19* 



222 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

der valued me, for of all men I ever met with, 
not excepting the noblemen and gentlemen 
in London, there never was a gentleman paid 
more deference to me than Sir Walter ; and 
although many of my anecdotes are homely 
and common-place ones, I am sure there is 
not a man in Scotland who appreciates his 
value more highly or reveres his memory 
more. 

With regard to his family, I have not 
much say, for I know but little. Sophia was 
a baby, when I first visited him, about two 
or three months old, and I have watched her 
progress ever since. By the time she had 
passed beyond the years of infancy, I per- 
ceived that she was formed to be the darling 
of such a father's heart, and so it proved. 
She was a pure child of nature, without the 
smallest particle of sophistication in her 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 223 

whole composition. And then, she loved her 
father so. O ! how dearly she loved him ! 
I shall never forget the looks of affection that 
she would throw up to him as he stood lean- 
ing on his crutch, and hanging over her at 
the harp, as she chaunted to him his favourite 
old Border Ballads, or his own wild Highland 
gatherings. Whenever he came into a room 
where she was, her countenance altered, and 
she often could not refrain from involuntary 
laughter. She is long ago a wife and 
mother herself, but I am certain she will 
always cherish the memory of the most affec- 
tionate of fathers. 

Walter is a fine manly, gentlemanly fel- 
low, without pride or affectation, but without 
the least spark of his father's genius that I 
ever could discern, and for all the literary com- 
pany that he mixed with daily in his youth, 



224 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

he seemed always to hold literature, arid 
poetry in particular, in very low estimation. 
He was terribly cast down at his father's 
death. I never saw a face of such misery 
and dejection, and though I liked to see it, 
yet I could not help shedding tears on con- 
templating his features, thinking of the jewel 
that had fallen from his crown. 

I always considered Anne, as the cleverest 
of the family ; shrewd, sensible, and discern- 
ing, but I believe a little of a satirist, for I 
know that when a mere girl, her associates 
were terrified for her. Charles is a queer 
chap, and will either make a spoon or spoil 
a good horn. 

Of Lockhart's genius and capabilities, 
Sir Walter always spoke with the greatest 
enthusiasm, more than I thought he deserv- 
ed, for I knew him a great deal better than 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 225 

Sir Walter did, and whatever Lockhart may 
pretend, I knew Sir Walter a thousand times 
better than he did. There is no man now 
living who knew Scott's character so tho- 
roughly in all its bearings as William Laid- 
law did. He was his land steward, his 
amanuensis, and managed the whole of his 
rural concerns and improvements, for the 
period of twenty years, and sorry am I that 
the present Sir Walter did not find it meet 
to keep Laidlaw on the estate, for without 
him, that dear-bought and classical property 
will be like a carcase without a head. Laid- 
law's head made it. He knows the value of 
every acre of land on it to a tithe, and of 
every tree in the forest, with the characters 
of all the neighbours and retainers. He was 
to be sure a subordinate, but Sir Walter 
always treated him as a friend, inviting Mrs, 



226 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

Laidlaw and him down to every party where 
there was any body he thought Laidlaw 
would like to meet, and Sir Walter called on 
Mrs. Laidlaw once or twice every day when 
he was in the country. I have seen him 
often pop in to his breakfast and take his salt 
herring and tea with us there, with as much 
ease and good humour, as if he had come 
into his brother's house. He once said to 
me as we were walking out about Abbotslee. 
and I was so much interested in the speech 
that I am sure I can indite it word by word, 
for Laidlaw was one of my earliest and dear- 
est friends. 

'•Was it not an extraordinary chance for me 
that threw Laidlaw into my hands '? Without 
Laidlaw's head I could have done nothing, 
and to him alone I am indebted for all these 
improvements. I never found a mind so 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 227 

inexhaustible as Laidlaw's. I have met 
with many of the greatest men of our coun- 
try, but uniformly found, that, after sounding 
them on one or two subjects, there their in- 
formation terminated. But with the worst of 
all manners of expression, Laidlaw's mind is 
inexhaustible. Its resources seem to be with- 
out end. Every day, every hour, he has 
something new, either of theory or experi- 
ment, and he sometimes abuses me like a 
tinker because I refuse to follow up his in- 
sinuations." 

Another day he said to me, " You know 
I recommended your friend Laidlaw, last 
year to Lord Mansfield as his factor, but was 
obliged to withdraw my recommendation and 
give his lordship a hint to relinquish his 
choice. For in the first place I was afraid 
that Laidlaw's precarious health might unfit 



228 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

him for such a responsible situation ; and 
more than that, I found that I could not 
live without him, and was obliged, maugre 
all misfortunes, to replace him in his old situa- 
tion," I therefore wish, from my heart and 
soul, that matters could have been so arrang- 
ed, that Laidlaw should not have been sepa- 
rated from Abbotsford; for though my own 
brother has long had and still has a high 
responsibility as Shepherd and superintendent 
of the enclosures, I cannot see how the man- 
agement of the estate can go on without 
Laidlaw. Under the law agents it will both 
cost more and go to ruin, and I say again, 
without Laidlaw, that grand classical estate 
is a carcase without a head. 

Whenever Sir Walter spoke of either of 
his two sons, which he frequently did, it was 
always in a jocular way, to raise a laugh at 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 229 

their expense. His description of Walter, 
when he led in Mrs. Lockhart a bride, with 
his false mustachios and w T hiskers, was a 
source of endless amusement to him. He 
was likewise wont often to quote some of 
Charles's wise sayings, which, in the way that 
he told them, never failed to set the table in 
a roar of laughter. 

Sir Walter had his caprices like other 
men, and when in poor health was particu- 
larly cross, but I always found his heart in 
the right place, and that he had all the 
native feelings and generosity of a man of 
true genius. I am ashamed to confess that 
his feelings for individual misfortune, were 
far more intense than my own. There was 
one day that I went in to breakfast with 
him as usual, when he said to me with eyes 

20 



230 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

perfectly staring, " Good Heaven ! Hogg, have 
you heard what has happened ? " 

" Na, na that I ken o', what is it that ye 
allude to, Mr. Scott?" 

" That our poor friend Irving has cut 
his throat last night or this morning, and is 
dead." 

C; O, ay ! I heard o' that," said I, with a 

coldness that displeased him. "But I never 

t 

heedit it, for the truth is that Irving was 
joost like the Englishman's riddle ; the warst 
fault that he had, he was useless. Irving 
could never have done any good either for 
himself, his family, or any other leevin' crea- 
ture." 

" I don't know, Mr. Hogg, what that poor 
fellow might have done, with encouragement. 
This you must at least acknowledge, that if 
he did not write genuine poetry, he came 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 231 

the nearest to it of any man that ever failed." 
These were Sir Walter's very words, and I 
record them in memory of the hapless victim 
of despair and disappointed literary ambition. 
He farther added, " For me, his melancholy 
fate has impressed me so deeply, and derang- 
ed me so much, that it will be long before 
I can attend to anything again." 

He abhorred all sorts of low vices and 
blackguardism with a perfect detestation. 
There was one Sunday when he was riding 
down Yarrow, in his carriage, attended by 
several gentlemen on horseback, and I being 
among them went up to the carriage door, 
and he being our Sheriff, I stated to him 
with the deepest concern that there was at 
that moment a cry of murder from the 
Broadmeadows wood, and that Will Wather- 
ston was murdering Davie Brunton. "Never 



232 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

you regard that, Hogg," said he, with rather 
a stern air, and without a smile on his coun- 
tenance. "If Will Watherston murders 
Davie Brunton, and be hanged for the crime, 
it is the best thing that can befal to the 
parish — drive on, Peter." 

He was no great favourer of sects, and 
seldom or never went to church. He was a 
complete and finished aristocrat, and the 
prosperity of the state was his great concern, 
which prosperity he deemed lost unless both 
example and precept flowed by regular gra- 
dation from the highest to the lowest. He 
dreaded religion as a machine by which the 
good government of the country might be 
deranged, if not uprooted. There was one 
evening when he and Marrit of Rokeby. 
some of the Fergusons, and I, were sitting 
over our wine, that he said, " There is noth- 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 233 

ing that I dread so much as a very religious 
woman ; she is not only a dangerous person, 
but a perfect shower-bath on all social con- 
viviality. The enthusiasm of our Scottish 
ladies has now grown to such a height that 
I am almost certain it will lead to some 
dangerous revolution in the state. And then, 
to try to check it, would only make the evil 
worse. If you ever choose a wife, Hogg, for 
goodness' sake, as you value your own hap- 
piness, don't choose a very religious one." 

He had a settled impression on his mind 
that a revolution was impending over this 
country, even worse than we have experi- 
enced, and he was always keeping a sharp 
look-out on the progress of enthusiasm in re- 
ligion, as a dangerous neighbour. There 
was one day, that he and Laidlaw were 

walking in the garden at Abbotsford, during 
20* 



234 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

the time that the western portion of the man- 
sion-house was building. The architect's 
name, I think, was Mr. Paterson. 

" Well, do you know, Laidlaw," said Scott, 
" that I think Paterson one of the best-na- 
tured, shrewd sensible fellows, that I ever 
met with. I am quite delighted with him, 
for he is a fund of continual amusement to 
me. If you heard but how I torment him ! 
I attack him every day on the fundamental 
principles of his own art. I take a position 
which I know to be false, and persist in 
maintaining it, and it is truly amazing with 
what good sense and good nature he sup- 
ports his principles. I really like Paterson 
exceedingly." 

u O he's verra fine fellow/' said Laidlaw. 
" An extraordinar fine fellow, an' has a great 
deal o' comings an' gangings in him. But 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 235 

dinna ye think, Mr. Scott, that it's a great 
pity he should hae been a preacher?" 

" A preacher ? " said Scott, staring at him ; 
" Good liord ! what do you mean ? " 

" Aha ! It's a' ye ken about it ! " said 
Laidlaw. "I assure you, he's a preacher, an' 
a capital preacher too. He's reckoned the 
best baptist preacher in a' Galashiels, an' 
preaches every Sunday to a great commu- 
nity o' low kind o' folks." 

On hearing this, Sir Walter, (then Mr. 
Scott,) wheeled about and helted off with a 
swiftness Laidlaw had never seen him exer- 
cise before ; exclaiming vehemently to him- 
self, " Preaches! D him!" From 

that time forth, his delightful colloquies with 
Mr. Paterson ceased. 

There was another time at Abbotsford, 
when some of the Sutherland family, (for I 



236 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

don't remember the English title,) and many 
others were there, that we were talking of 
the Earl of Buchan's ornamental improve- 
ments at Drvburgh, and among other things, 
of the collossal statue of Wallace, which I 
rather liked and admired, but which Sir Wal- 
ter perfectly abhorred, he said these very 
words. " If I live to see the day when the 
men of Scotland, like the children of Israel, 
shall every one do that which is right in his 
own eyes, which 1 am certain either lor 
my immediate successors will see, I have 
settled in my own mind long ago what I 
shall do first. I'll go down and blow up 
the statue of Wallace with gun-powder. Yes. 
I shall blow it up in such style, that there 
shall not be one fragment of it left ! the horri- 
ble monster ! ' 1 He had a great veneration 
for the character of Sir William Wallace, 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 237 

and I have often heard him eulogise it. He 
said to me one morning long ago, when 
Miss Porter's work, The Scottish Chiefs, 
first appeared, " I am grieved about this 
work of Miss Porter ! I cannot describe to 
you how much I am disappointed, I wished 
to think so well of it ; and I do think highly 
of it as a work of genius. But, Lord help 
her ! Her Wallace is no more our Wallace, 
than Lord Peter is, or King Henry's messen- 
ger to Percy Hotspur. It is not safe med- 
dling with the hero of a country, and, of all 
others, I cannot bear to see the character of 
Wallace frittered away to that of a fine gen- 
tleman/' 

Sir Walter was the best formed man I 
ever saw, and, laying his weak limb out of 
the question, a perfect model of a man for 
gigantic strength. The muscles of his arms 



238 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

were prodigious. I remember of one day 
long ago, I think it was at some national 
dinner in Oman's Hotel, that at a certain 
time of the night, a number of the young 
heroes differed prodigiously with regard to 
their various degrees of muscular strength. 
A general measurement took place around 
the shoulders and chest, and I, as a particular 
judge in these matters, was fixed on as the 
measurer and umpire. Scott, who never 
threw cold water on any fun, submitted 
to be measured with the rest. He measured 
most round the chest, and to their great 
chagrin, I was next to him, and very little 
short. But when I came to examine the 
arms ! Sir Walter's had double the muscular 
power of mine, and very nearly so of every 
man's who was there. I declare, that from 









SIR WALTER SCOTT. 239 

the elbow to the shoulder, they felt as if he 
had the strength of an ox. 

There was a gentleman once told me that 
he walked into Sir Walter's house, in Castle- 
street, just as the footman was showing 
another gentleman out, and that, being an 
intimate acquaintance, he walked straight 
into Sir Walter's study, where he found him 
stripped, with his shirt sleeves rolled up to 
his shoulders, and his face very red. " Good 
Heaven, Scott, what is the matter ? " said the 
intruder. " Pray, may I ask an explana- 
tion of this ? " " Why, the truth is, that I 
have just been giving your friend, Mr. Mar- 
tin, a complete drubbing," said Scott laugh- 
ing. " The scoundrel dared me to touch 
him but with one of my fingers ; but if I 
have not given him a thorough basting, he 
knows himself. He is the most impudent 



240 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

and arrant knave I ever knew. But I think 
it will be a while before he attempts to im- 
pose again upon me." This Mr. Martin, 
the gentleman said, was some great picture 
dealer. But as I never heard Sir Walter 
mention the feat in his hours of hilarity, I 
am rather disposed to discredit the story. 
He was always so reasonable and so prudent, 
that I hardly think he would fall on and 
baste even a knavish picture dealer black and 
blue, in his own study. The gentleman 
who told me this is alive, and will, and may 
answer for himself in this matter. 

Sir Walter in his study, and in his seat in 
the Parliament house, had rather a dull, 
heavy appearance, but in company, his 
countenance was always lighted up, and 
Chantrey has given the likeness of him there 
precisely. In his family he was kind, con- 



•SIR WALTER SCOTT. 241 

descending and attentive, but highly impera- 
tive. No one of them durst for a moment 
disobey his orders, and if he began to hang 
down his eyebrows, a single hint was 
enough. In every feature of his face deci- 
sion was strongly marked. He was exactly 
what I conceive an old Border Baron to 
have been, with his green jacket, his blue 
bonnet, his snow-white locks, muscular frame, 
and shaggy eyebrows, 

He was said to be a very careless com- 
poser, yet I have seen a great number of 
his manuscripts, corrected and enlarged on 
the white page which he alternately left, a 
plan which I never tried in my life. He 
once undertook to correct the press for a work 
of mine, " The Three Perils of Women," 
when I was living in the country, and when 

I gave the manuscript to Ballantyne, I said, 
2i 



342 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

" Now you must send the proofs to Sir Wal- 
ter, he is to correct them for me." 

" He correct them for you !" exclaimed 
Ballantyne, " Lord help you and him both ! 
I assure you if he had nobody to correct 
after him, there would be a bonny song 
through the country. He is the most care- 
less and incorrect writer that ever was born, 
for a voluminous and popular writer, and as 
for sending a proof sheet to him, we may as 
well keep it in the office. He never heeds 
it. No, no, you must trust the correction of 
the press to my men and me, I shall answer 
for them, and if I am in a difficulty at any 
time, I'll apply to Lockhart. He is a very 
different man, and has the best eye for a 
corrector, of any gentleman corrector I ever 
saw. He often sends me an article written 
off-hand like your own, without the interlined- 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 243 

tion of a word, or the necessity of correct- 
ing one afterwards. But as for Sir Walter, 
he will never look at either your proofs or 
his own, unless it be for a few minutes' 
amusement." 

The Whig ascendency in the British 
Cabinet killed Sir Walter. Yes, I say and 
aver it was that which broke his heart, de- 
ranged his whole constitution, and murdered 
him. As I have shown before, a dread of 
revolution had long preyed on his mind ; he 
withstood it to the last ; he fled from it, but 
it affected his brain, and killed him. From 
the moment he perceived the veto of a de- 
mocracy prevailing, he lost all hope of the 
prosperity and ascendency of the British 
empire. He not only lost hope of the realm, 
but of every individual pertaining to it, as 
my last anecdote of him will show, for 



244 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

though I could multiply these anecdotes and 
remarks to volumes, yet I must draw them 
to a conclusion. They are trivial in the last 
degree ; did they not relate to so great and 
so good a man. I have depicted him exactly 
as he was, as he always appeared to me, and 
was reported by others, and I revere his 
memory as that of an elder brother. 

The last time I saw his loved and ho- 
noured face, was at the little inn on my own 
farm, in the autumn of 1830. He sent me 
word that he was to pass on such a day, on 
his way from Dumlamrig Castle, to Abbots- 
ford, but he was sorry he could not call at 
Altrive, to see Mrs. Hogg and the bairns, 
it being so far ofif the way. I accordingly 
waited at the inn, and handed him out of 
the carriage. His daughter was with him, 
but we left her at the inn, and walked 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 246 

slowly down the way as far as Mountben- 
ger-Burn. He then walked very ill indeed, 
for the weak limb had become almost com- 
pletely useless, but he leaned on my shoulder 
all the way, and did me the honour of 
saying that he never leaned on a firmer or 
a surer. 

We talked of many things, past, present, 
and to come, but both his memory and 
onward calculation appeared to me then to 
be considerably decayed. I cannot tell what 
it was, but there was something in his man- 
ner that distressed me. He often changed 
the subject very abruptly, and never laughed. 
He expressed the deepest concern for my 
welfare and success in life, more than I had 
ever heard him do before, and all mixed 
with sorrow for my worldly misfortunes. 

There is little doubt, that his own were then 
21* 



246 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

preying on his vitals. He told me that 
which I never knew nor suspected before ; 
that a certain game-keeper, on whom he be- 
stowed his maledictions without reserve, had 
prejudiced my best friend, the young Duke 
of Buccleuch, against me, by a story, and 
though he himself knew it to be a mali- 
cious and invidious lie, yet seeing his grace 
so much irritated he durst not open his lips 
on the subject, further than by saying, " But 
my lord Duke, you must always remember 
that Hogg is no ordinary man, although he 
may have shot a stray moorcock." And 
then turning to me he said, "Before you 
had ventured to give any saucy language to 
a low scoundrel of an English game-keep- 
er, you should have thought of Fielding's 
tale of Black George." 

" I never saw that tale," said I, " an 5 



SIR WA.LTER SCOTT. 247 

dinna' ken ought about it. But never trou- 
ble your head about that matter, Sir Walter, 
for it is awthegither out o' nature for our 
young chief to entertain ony animosity 
against me. The thing will never mair be 
heard of, an' the chap that tauld the lees 
on me will gang to hell, that's aye some 
comfort." 

I wanted to make him laugh, but I could 
not even make him smile. " You are still 
the old man, Hogg, careless and improvident 
as ever," said he, with a countenance as gruff 
and demure as could be. 

Before we patted I mentioned to him my 
plan of trusting an edition of my prose tales, 
in twenty volumes, to Lockhart's editing. 
He disapproved of the plan decidedly, and 
said, " I would not for any thing in the 
world, that Lockhart should enter on such a 



248 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

responsibility, for taking your random way 
of writing into account, the responsibility 
would be a very heavy one. Ay, and a 
dangerous one too ! " Then turning half 
round, leaning on his crutch, and fixing his 
eyes on the ground for a long space, he said, 
" You have written a great deal that might 
be made available, Hogg, with proper atten- 
tion. And I am sure that one day or other, it 
will be made available to you or your family. 
But in my opinion, this is not the proper 
season. I wish you could drive off the ex- 
periment until the affairs of the nation are 
in better keeping, for at present all things, 
and literature in particular, are going straight 
down hill to destruction and ruin." And 
then he mumbled something to himself, 
which I took to be an inward curse. I say 
again, and I am certain of it, that the demo- 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 249 

cratic ascendency, and the grievous and 
shameful insults he received from the popu- 
lace of his own country, broke the heart of, 
and killed the greatest man that ever that 
country contained. 

When I handed him into the coach that 
day, he said something to me which, in the 
confusion of parting, I forgot ; and though I 
tried to recollect the words the next minute, 
I. could not, and never could again. It was 
something to the purport that it was likely it 
would be long, ere he leaned as far on my 
shoulder again, but there was an expression 
in it, conveying his affection for me, or his 
interest in me, which has escaped my memory 
forever. 

This is my last anecdote of my most 
sincere and esteemed friend. After this I 
never saw him again. I called twice at 



250 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 

Abbotsford, during his last illness, but they 
would not let me see him, and I did not at 
all regret it, for he was then reduced to the 
very lowest state of weakness, to which 
poor prostrate humanity could be subjected. 
He was described to me by one who saw 
him often, as exactly in the same state with 
a man mortally drunk, who could in nowise 
own or assist himself; the pressure of the 
abscess on the brain having apparently the 
same effect as the fumes of drunkenness. 
He could, at short intervals, distinguish indi* 
viduals, and pronounce a few intelligible 
words ; but these lucid glimpses were of 
short duration, the sunken eye soon ceased 
again from distinguishing objects, and the 
powerless tongue became unable to utter a 
syllable, though constantly attempting it, 



SIR WALTER SCOTT. 251 

which made the sound the most revolting 
that can be conceived. 

I am sure heaven will bless Lockhart, for 
his attentions to the illustrious sufferer. The 
toil and the watching that he patiently en- 
dured, one would have thought was beyond 
human nature to have stood, and yet I never 
saw him look better or healthier all the while. 
He will not miss his reward. I followed my 
friend's sacred remains to his last narrow 
house, remained the last man at the grave ? 
and even then, left it with reluctance. 

Omnes eodem cogimur: omnium, 
Versatur urna, serius, ocyus 
Sors exitura. 



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